


Worthy Adversaries

by StellaAuteur



Series: Getting Grangered [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fantasizing, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:57:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9272768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellaAuteur/pseuds/StellaAuteur
Summary: Hermione Granger has an itch that needs scratching and Draco Malfoy, of all people, is up for the challenge. Who else would face off against the female third of the Golden Trio? She needs a worthy adversary. NOW WITH READER REQUESTED EPILOGUE





	1. Remove Face from Cleavage, Help Hermione

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all - this is my first attempt at fanfic and I don't really know what I'm doing, so help me out if you can. It's a fun experiment (and stress reliever) for me. 
> 
> Few things:  
> \- I'm American so if I totally screw up the British slang, I apologize. I'm just kind of winging it.  
> \- I'm a fan of the books and movies, but haven't read them in a bit so I'm sure to make some mistakes with little things - be kind! I don't have time to google or check every little thing. Hope you still enjoy. =)  
> \- Obviously inspired by J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series. I own nothing, but think she's fab. Thank God it's all hers and not mine.

Hermione Granger scowled at herself in the mirror. She scowled at the soft curls cascading around her face. She scowled at the smoky purple shadow around her eyes, the glittering necklace falling just above her cleavage, and the rosy pink pout of her mouth.

“Blimey! Hermione, you look amazing. Or at least you did, until you started making that face.”

In that instant, her eyes flashed with fury and she turned her scowl towards her so called best friend.

“Don’t you even _look_ at me, Harry Potter! Don’t _talk_ to me. Don’t come near me. Don’t compliment me. And MOST DEFINITELY do not insult me. This is all your fault, you arsehole.” Hermione fumed.

“How is this my fault?! All I did was ask Ginny to help you get ready. And she did! You look incredible.”

Harry’s green eyes stared boldly into hers. He’d been through enough spats with Hermione to know that doing anything other than facing her head on was a mistake.

“You act like I _chose_ to go to this blasted gala tonight. You act like I have free will in attending. You both practically kidnapped me.” Hermione screeched.

“Don’t be so dramatic. We’re not taking you to a torture chamber! It’s drinking, dancing, and - if you finally relaxed a little and decided to have some fun - some snogging. Seriously, Hermione, you need a good shag is what you need.” Ginny cut in, with her typical bluntness.

“Ginerva Molly Weasley Potter. This IS a torture chamber. I’ve been to ten thousand of these events and I know exactly how it goes.”

“Ten thousand?” Harry smirked at her dramatics, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Yes! Or at least it feels like ten thousand! The Wizarding War Orphans ball. The Hogwarts Restoration gala. The Pureblood Re-Education and Re-Integration fundraiser. I can’t take it anymore! Why can’t I do my work behind the scenes? Donate the money. Get others to donate theirs. Help organize the events. Why do I have to GO?!?”

Hermione was about two minutes away from a complete and utter meltdown and Ginny suddenly found herself grateful that she chose to use the waterproof mascara spell.

“You know why,” Harry said softly, appreciating the difficulty that Hermione faced, knowing how she struggled with public appearances.  
“They want to see you. They want to meet the Golden Trio. They want the public face of the war.”

“Why can’t you and Ron handle it? It’s easier for you. Ron loves it – the storytelling, the adoration, the groupies. And you have Ginny to help run interference for you if it gets too crazy. But they’re different with me. They’re so invasive!” Hermione pouted, knowing that she was acting like a petulant child. But for her, the events were truly traumatic and each one seemed harder to get through.

At the last event, a man asked her casually if her mudblood scar still hurt. She smirked as she re-lived the memory of hitting him over the head with her handbag.

At that awkward moment, Ron burst through the door with a big grin plastered on his face. “Let’s go, party people! Who’s ready to bring the fun?”

There was a long frozen pause until Ginny started giggling and broke the silence. Hermione looked around the room at her three best friends and sighed.

Harry and Ginny were dressed to the nines and trying to hold back laughs. Ginny’s emerald dress robes swept the floor gracefully, while Harry’s hand rested on her lower back lovingly. He looked at Hermione with a pleading look.

“Cmon, Mione. Where’s your Gryffindor courage? We’ll all be there together.” Harry reasoned.

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror a final time, acknowledging in her head that she did look quite pretty. Her gown was a bright fuschia color and hugged her curves closely. It had a low cut to the back, leaving most of her back bare.

It was more adventurous than her normal formalwear, but after The Daily Prophet posted an unflattering picture of her captioned **“Schoolmarm Granger Strikes Again,”** she wore it out of spite.

She steeled her shoulders, took a deep breath and stood up. Pointing her fingers at each other them, she stated her terms.

“Okay, I will go, but the same conditions remain. We WILL have signals for when you need to step in and rescue me. If you see me scratch my nose, tap my shoulders, or stretch my arms above my head, you need to save me. Not later. Not ‘as soon as this dance is over.’ Not ‘once I get my drink.’ Immediately.” Hermione glared at each of them to ensure they were taking her seriously.

“Yes, Hermione.” They chorused.

“Ronald.” Her eyes bore into his.

“Hermione.” He shuffled his feet, knowing already that he was in some sort of trouble.

“This means you are promising me that if I need help, you will eject yourself from the cleavage of whatever dingbat floozy you have found for the night and come to my aid. **Remove face from cleavage, help Hermione.** Do I make myself clear?”

“Lucky for you, I’ve been more of an “arse” man, lately.” Ron snorted.

“Ronald.” Hermione’s stern headmistress voice did not waver.

“I’m just saying! It’s easier to keep an eye out for your distress call when it’s my HANDS that are busy, not my face!” Ron cried defensively, eyes on the floor.

“I thank Merlin every day that our so-called romance only lasted months. You are a disgusting git.”

“But you love me. I’m your best friend.”

“Regrettably. Now let’s go before I change my mind.”


	2. A Stiff Man, a Stiff Drink, and a Obliviate spell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos on the last chapter! My first story, so nice to know a few people enjoyed. I think I had comments off by accident - so feel free to leave comments or tips. Rated mature for sexy scenes later on.
> 
> Again, I'm an American so forgive me on the British slang and American speech/spellings.
> 
> *****

Draco Malfoy leaned against the wall of his mother’s study, eyes closed, headache throbbing, trying his hardest to tune his mother out.

“Draco! Draco – are you listening to me?! It is _imperative_ that tonight goes off perfectly. It is a great honor that they’ve finally agreed to let us host an event at the Manor. We need to continue to make amends and pay attribution. But all the planning, all my hard work is worth nothing if the event is a disaster. It must be a success!” Narcissa said breathlessly.

“I’m sure it will be, Mother. All your events and parties go smoothly.” Draco placated her, half listening.

“Yes, except for that one party I threw … where Voldemort came … and _never_ _left_.” Narcissa deadpanned.

Draco cracked an eye open and peered at her. She was smirking and winked at him, actually winked.

“Mother, was that – did you – did you just make a joke?” Draco asked, incredulously.

“I did! Did it work? One of the witches on the advisory committee always manages to make jokes about things that happened in the War and it breaks the tension and puts everyone at ease. I thought I would try it.”

“Well done.”

“Alright, it’s time for everyone to be in their places. Draco – I need you in the front entryway greeting attendees as they arrive. They’ll be coming from both the floo and the apparition landing - "

“Mother – we’ve gone over this for what seems like _years_. I got it.”

“Turn off the attitude, Draco, and turn up the charm. I need you at your best. Now go!” Narcissa shooed him away, turning to direct, cajole, and threaten everyone else into whatever it was she needed them to do.

*****

Hermione landed on the apparition spot about as ungracefully as possible. She punched Harry so hard on the way through that he feared they would splinch themselves.

“Malfoy Manor?!? MALFOY BLOOODY MANOR?!?” Hermione screamed, still punching Harry’s arms. “No wonder you wanted to side-along! Obviously, I wouldn’t have _chosen to return_ to Malfoy bloody Manor.”

“Hermione, calm down. Lower your voice. You know everything Draco and Narcissa have done for the causes. It’s been years.” Harry hissed. “Isn’t it time to reward their efforts? Think of the other minds they could help change. The other purebloods they could bring to the table. Think of the funds they could raise!”

Draco stood paralyzed, frozen between the floo entrance and the apparition spot. He had been on the way to greet their guests when he heard them burst through, in a flurry of activity. Unsure whether to step forward or step back, he stayed stuck in place and waited with bated breath to hear her response.

“You better _swear_ to me, Harry. **_Swear! Swear that we are going nowhere near the room where that psychopath tortured me._** ” Draco's guilt washed over him like a tsunami, drowning out everything else.

“Of course not, Hermione. It was one of the conditions of having the event here.” Harry sighed.

“Are they hosting the silent auction in the dungeons? The main speech in the Voldemort’s bedchambers?” Hermione asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Stop. Give them a chance. You’ve given so many others a second chance – spoken for them in their trials and sentencing, met with them privately to allow them to atone. Why not the Malfoys?”

“You! Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. YOU … are speaking on behalf of the bloody Malfoys? We must be in an alternate universe.” Hermione snarled.

Harry’s voice dropped almost to a whisper, low enough that Draco had to strain to hear him. “I’m _tired_ , Mione. Aren’t you? I’m tired. Tired of the fighting, the hatred, the blood lines. Tired of re-living who stood where on the sides of the war.”

Hermione was silent. Draco couldn’t see her face clearly, but he could tell she was pensive.

“The war is over, Mione. The Death Eaters killed or imprisoned. We’re in a new world. Wouldn’t you like it to include everyone who wants things to be better? I’ve spent a lot of time with Draco and Narcissa, Mione. They are not who they once were.”

Hermione walked away from him, into the light where Draco could see her. She was draped in a deep fuschia gown, a Muggle style that hugged the curves of her ample breasts, the swell of her hips. She looked like a star in one of those Muggle films. Her sleeves were falling off her shoulders like a cape, mimicking the look of dress robes. It was a perfect blend of Muggle and witch. A perfect representation of Granger – a woman caught between two worlds.

Her face was deep in thought. She bit her lower lip and looked as though she was struggling to work something out in her mind. He’d seen her make that face hundreds of times, usually during a particularly terrifying Double Potions lesson with Severus Snape.

“I … will try.” She said hesitantly. “But if that slimy Slytherin so much as calls me a Mudblood once, I’m out of here. And I won’t be held accountable for whatever I do when that happens.”

“He won’t, Mione. He really won’t. He’s different. You’ll see.” Harry sighed, clearly relieved.

At that moment, Ginny and Ron popped onto the apparition landing, having purposely delayed their arrival to avoid Hermione’s reaction.

“Off to drink!” Ron yelled, avoiding eye contact with Hermione and shooting down the hallway like a little boy trying to escape his parents at bedtime. Draco skirted into an alcove quickly to avoid encountering the Weasel.

“I’m late to meet Narcissa, ladies. I should go,” said Harry, giving Hermione a quick hug before following after Ron. As he passed the alcove, he spotted Draco and they made eye contact.

''Thank you,” Draco mouthed silently. Harry nodded swiftly, shrugged, and continued on his way.

Ginny attempted to follow after Harry, but Hermione’s steely voice stopped her in her tracks: “Gin-er-va.”

Draco had to hand it to her. He was impressed. A lot may have changed from their school days, but Granger still didn’t back down from a fight. She was Gryffindor bravery, or stupidity, to the core.

The Weaslette looked sheepishly at Hermione, then stared at the floor.

“Hermione, I’m sorry! We debated back and forth whether to tell you. Ron said yes, because, well, he’s scared shitless of you. Harry said no, because he thought you’d never agree to come.”

“And you?” Hermione cocked her eyebrow.

“I trust Harry.” Ginny said earnestly under her breath, almost too soft to hear.

“Lucky for you, I trust Harry too.” Hermione laughed, breaking the tension.

“You know what I need?” Hermione’s eyes sparkled and Ginny could tell that “Naughty Hermione” was about to break out. It was rare that Naughty Hermione made an appearance, but it was always a welcome event.

“I need a stiff drink, a stiff man, and an Obliviate spell afterwards so the lucky devil can’t go blabbing about it to the Daily Prophet.”

“Well … let’s get started with the drink, shall we?” Ginny laughed. “Didn’t I tell you that you needed to ‘loosen up.’” She winked at Hermione.

“Oh trust me, I know, it’s been too long.” Hermione grinned. “And random ‘stress relief’ with muggle men from bars is starting to get old, especially once the Daily Prophet decided to start following me day and night.”

Draco’s brow furrowed in thought. _She was joking about the men in bars, right? She had to be! This was Hermione “frigid, know-it-all, brightest witch of her age” Granger for Merlin’s sake. At Hogwarts, the girl had spent more time in the library than she did breathing air, seemed like._

“Poor Hermione needs a good shag?” Ginny grinned wickedly. Draco couldn’t stop his eavesdropping if he tried, he was so fascinated.

His fists opened and closed, clenching. Tightly. _Why was this getting to him so much? So Granger needed a shag? What the hell did that have to do with him?_

“I don’t need a shag, Ginny.” Hermione exclaimed. “I need a good, hard, fast, fuck against a wall with a wizard with an especially large wand, if you know what I’m saying. I need to forget what happened the last time I was in this bloody Manor. I need it pounded out of me.”

Draco’s astonishment was so strong, he almost gasped. _Who knew Granger had such a scandalous mouth on her?_ Unfortunately, his “wand” seemed to respond immediately to her filthy words. He stood at attention, frozen in place, trying to figure out how to escape this situation as fast as possible.

“Let’s go,” Ginny laughed. “The drink first, and then we’ll go about jumpstarting your corruption.”

“Like it’s that easy,” Hermione groaned. “Any idiot I sleep with tonight won’t hesitate to tell all the dirty details to his friends, enemies, ex-girlfriends, coworkers, family, the media … I’m just going to stop. What I need is someone who’s so mortified to shag me that he takes it to the grave.”

“Like who, Mione? You’re hot, smart, and one-third of the Golden Trio. Who would be _embarrassed_ to shag you?” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Oh I don’t know,” Hermione sighed, furrowing her freckled brow. Suddenly, she started to snicker. “Malfoy! He absolutely despises me! Imagine – a Mudblood dirtying his precious Slytherin green silk sheets.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows suggestively. It took all of Draco's self control had to not cry out in surprise. There was a long pause and then both women broke into hysterical giggles, laughing so hard that they ran out of breath.

“Oh that’s rich. That would be the day. Yeah right.” Hermione wheezed, trying hard to catch her breath. “Well thank you for the laugh anyway, Gin. Let’s go get that drink. You remember the signals?” Hermione quizzed, suddenly intense and serious.

Ginny moaned, “Of course, I remember the bloody signals. We’ve only gone to eight thousand of these bloody events. Scratch your nose, tap your shoulders, stretch your arms.”

“Then you ….?” Hermione prompted.

“Rescue you from whatever arse or arsette you’re trying to avoid. Harry and Ron are on duty too, and I’m pretty sure they told the signals to George. You’re covered. C’mon already.”

Ginny threw an arm around Hermione and squeezed before pulling her towards the main ballroom.

Draco realized quickly that they were headed his way and ducked into a hall closet to hide, not trusting the alcove to shield him.

 _Get a grip, Draco!_ he thought. _You are a MALFOY. Malfoys do not hide in hall closets from women, especially Granger and Weaslette. This is embarrassing!_

He waited until he heard them walk by before he came back into the hallway. Draco looked down at his still rock hard cock and said to it **“Do. Not. Even. Think. About. It.”**

But think about it, he did. He thought about it while casting a spell his father had taught him before Hogwarts to deflate the problem in his pants.

He thought about it while manning the floo and apparition entrances, talking at length with guests, and negotiating major donor gifts to the charity. He thought about it while dancing with daughters of his mother’s VIP guests, spinning them round the ballroom with involuntary ease. He thought about it while throwing back Firewhiskey shots with Blaise Zabini at the bar. He simply _could not stop_ thinking about it.

“You’re distracted,” Blaise looked at Draco curiously, his Slytherin instincts set aflame, trying to figure out the puzzle before him. “You’re half listening to anything I say.”

“I’m listening. I’m just half _bored_ by anything you say.” Draco tried to affect an air of indifference, forming his face into a blank mask and leaning his body casually against the bar.

At the same time, he couldn’t help scanning the room with his eyes, looking for Granger. He knew it was foolish. The last thing he wanted was Blaise figuring out what – or rather who – had captured his attention. But at this point, it wasn’t a choice. It was a compulsion. He _needed_ to see Granger.

His eye landed on her, finally. She was standing at another bar at the far end of the ballroom. She must have been dancing, because her skin was flushed and glowing. She’d pulled her curls to one side and pinned them in place.

She was talking to a man whose hand was on her lower back, which was naked to his touch due to the low cut of the dress. He leaned in to whisper something in her ear. Her neck was bare on that side, her necklace glittering at her throat. Her eyes shot up in surprise at whatever he said and she threw her head back and laughed.

 _She’s stunning_ , Draco thought, smiling blissfully as he watched her. For a second, he wished desperately that he was the one making her laugh like that and he couldn’t help staring angrily at the couple.

He felt Blaise’s eyes boring into him and turned slowly. Draco’s face was a mask of terror.

“ _Blaise!_ ” he hissed. “ _Don’t tell ANYONE!_ ”

“What is there to tell?” Blaise grinned knowingly. “I didn’t see a thing. I wasn’t looking.”

Draco glared at Blaise suspiciously, knowing he wasn’t getting off that easy.

“If I had been looking, what do you image I would see? Granger laughing with some bloke and you drooling all over your fancy silk shirt? Your ‘snake’ standing up like a Cobra, popping a tent in your trousers? You plotting the murder of George ‘What a Wanker’ Weasley for putting his hand on Granger’s back?”

Blaise’s tone was calm but his words cut Draco to his core. After a brief glance downwards to ensure his “snake” was not out of place, Draco looked back at Blaise, his words sinking in.

“George Weasley? Why’s she talking to that bloody tosser? I thought he was with Katie Bell?” Draco asked, a hint of panic in his voice.

Blaise looked at Draco cautiously, unsure of how to respond.

“Draco, mate. Are you … are you seriously interested in Granger? I was just taking the piss out of you.”

“I don’t … I … I’ve never thought about it before tonight.” Draco stammered.

“Oh bollocks! You act like we didn’t share a dormitory for 6 years. You think I didn’t hear your Granger sex dreams? _‘Mmmm, Granger. Don’t stop. You feel so good.’_ ” Blaise imitated.

“Shut it!” Draco looked around, panicked that someone had overheard. “You can’t bloody help what you dream, can you? Anyway, I was a complete arse to her in school and she hated me so much she punched me in the face. Not exactly the stuff romance is built on.”

“Well, we’re a long way from school, aren’t we?” Blaise reasoned. “What do you have to lose? If she shoots you down, you already thought she hated you anyway. And for the record, George ‘Half Eared’ Weasley split with Katie Bell a month ago so he might be making a go for Granger. I wouldn’t wait too long. She looks absolutely _edible_ in that dress.”

Draco was shocked to hear his friend encouraging him towards this Granger affliction. He was trying to clamp it down, suppress it, deny its very existence. Now Blaise of all people was encouraging him towards it.

Draco hesitated, then pulled Blaise into his private study off the library, taking care not to be overheard. Quickly, Draco filled Blaise in on it all: his attraction to Granger, his eavesdropping in the hall and Granger’s joke about shagging him, and the blasted signals that were meant to keep undesirables away.

“Well, the good news is this: you’ll know right away where you stand. If you aren’t an undesirable, the rescue signals won’t be sent. But this is Granger we’re talking about - she of the vicious temper and strong right hook. You offend her and it won’t be the signals you’ll be worried about, it’ll be losing a tooth or breaking that nose again.”

Draco sighed, ran his fingers through his trademark blonde hair, and committed himself.

“It’s worth it. If I lose a tooth, so be it. Granger isn’t a crush, she’s an enigma. She’s my riddle that needs solving. I just need to know.”

Blaise smirked, glad that Draco was finally acknowledging his long denied attraction to Granger.

“About time, mate,” he grinned, “About time. You’d be barmy to keep denying it. Cheers!”

Blaise beckoned the bartender over for two more Firewhiskeys, clanking his shot glass against Draco’s for luck. Draco took a deep breath, downed the shot, wrinkling his pale brow as it burned on the way down. He steeled his shoulders, affixed his cocky, devil may care mask expression on his face and started on his way.


	3. Miss Granger, What Do you Desire?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for my first comment FatesFire and the kudos everyone. How fun! 
> 
> There will be sexy scenes coming up in a few chapters - trying to decide if Mature is okay, but thinking Explicit is maybe a better rating?

Hermione wanted to die. She’d used her rescue signals so frequently that her nose was practically raw and her arms were about ready to pop out of their sockets.

The biggest problem was that she was simply _bored_. These events all blended into another and she had a terrible feeling of déjà vu. She had been here, exactly here, many, many times before.

Well not _here_ , exactly. Malfoy Manor was certainly a new venue. But the rest – the hor d’oeuvres, the dancing, the music, the formal dress robes – the rest was all the same.

Catching up with George had been a bright spot of fun in a boring, dreadful evening, but he’d been dragged away by Molly to run interference between Auntie Muriel and Fleur. The two stubborn women were ever at odds and at risk of starting the Third Wizarding War before the night was out.

Hermione wasn’t only bored, she was _absolutely knackered_.

After the war ended, she returned with half her class to Hogwarts to finish her studies and take her NEWTS. She had so many employment offers after the war that she didn’t _need_ to go back. But she felt safe at Hogwarts. Protected. _Cherished_ , even.

She felt a sense of normalcy, which was exactly what she craved. She felt too emotionally unstable to fix her parents memories just yet and needed to sort herself out before she tried. Hogwarts was a perfect place to hide and heal.

Eventually, she needed to make a life outside of her hideaway home so she declined McGonagall’s offer to teach and joined the Department of International Cooperation at 19. Rising quickly through its ranks, she was now the Deputy Director of her Department, the second youngest ever in so high a role. Harry had become Deputy Director of the Aurors Department at 22, beating her to the punch by a year.

On top of her demanding and high profile job, she did an exceptional amount of charity work – seemingly more than ever, since this May would be the 5 year anniversary of the war’s end.

And that’s what brought her to this blasted event – professional responsibility to maintain her public image, a moral fiber that could not refuse a charity event, and pride that refused to acknowledge how tired and overworked she was. So she stood in her 6 inch heels, knackered, miffed, and struggling desperately to catch the bartender’s eye to refill her wine.

Unfortunately, she was handily ignored while he flirted with a blonde on the far end of the bar. She rolled her eyes at his desperate attempts to woo the witch.

“Thirsty, Granger?”

Though the voice caught her off guard, she knew his identity instantly. No one else could carry off that level of arrogance in two measly words. Her back tensed for an instant and then she scolded herself. _What on earth do you have to be afraid of? You’re Hermione bleeding Granger, for Circe’s sake!_

“Not thirsty for anything you’re peddling, Malfoy.” Hermione answered, her intonation bored and her shoulders relaxing into a forced casual pose.

Undeterred, Draco raised a finger at the bartender and he dropped the blonde in an instant to attend to whatever it was that Draco “heir of the Manor” Malfoy needed.

“Sir, yes, sir! What can I get for you?” the bartender choked out.

“It’s not me. It’s my guest that you’ve been ignoring. Miss Granger, what do you desire?” Malfoy asked.

Hermione peered out at him from under her mascara-ed lashes, suspiciously. Malfoy smiled at her, seemingly genuinely, and asked again “what can we get for you?”

“A glass of red wine, please.”

“Ted – the private label.” Draco interrupted, quickly.

“And so the measley servant scurries off to do his Master’s bidding.” Hermione said, annoyed, turning around and resting her bare back against the bar, arms crossed in front of her under her ample cleavage.  “What in Merlin’s name has gotten into you, Malfoy? Where’s the gibes about my bushy hair, my beaver toothed face, my abysmal Defense against the Dark Arts grade?” Hermione gritted through her teeth.

“We’re well out of school, Granger. I might have grown up _just_ a little. **_Wait – you had an abysmal DADA grade?!?_** ” Draco exclaimed loudly, filled with excitement.

“No! Absolutely not!” Hermione shrieked, defensively, looking around to ensure no one overheard. “Whatever, Malfoy, it’s not like we all got to have _hands on_ Dark Arts training like you. What – did you have private tutoring sessions from the big snake himself?” Hermione asked, rolling her chocolate eyes at him.

Draco shivered, her words hitting a little too close to home, but shook it off. He looked her over anxiously, trying to ascertain if she’s used any of her “save me” signals. But her hands rested at her sides on the bar, fingers tapping on the dark wood, her brown eyes still staring right into his steely gray ones.

“See, Granger – you _missed_ this! Admit it. You’re sitting here, in your fabulous dress, with your fabulous charity, and your fabulous famous friends, and you are just absolutely, completely, entirely BORED. You’re bored through your core. You may hate me, Granger dear, but at least I make things interesting.” Draco cocked an eyebrow at her, almost begging her to disagree.

Hermione didn’t have time to ponder his challenge too long, as the bartender came back with her drink.

With it, he brought a tray of bon bons, a cheese plate, and an array of stuffed figs. “I wasn’t sure what you would like, Miss Granger, so I brought some selections from the kitchen to pair with your wine.”

Hermione was so shocked, she didn’t say anything, just raised her eyebrows at Draco in disbelief. “Thank you, Ted,” Draco said quietly, nodding at him to let him know he was dismissed.

“Is this what life is like for you, Malfoy? You just show up and they bring you the private label, the array of delectable treats, the instant service?” Hermione groaned, hands on her delectably curved hips.

“Sometimes. And sometimes, they’re following me in Diagon Alley yelling Death Eater and murderer and rapist.” Draco said quietly, shocked by his own admittance, his own brief moment of honesty.

“Well that’s just nonsense. You aren’t any of those things … well …”

Hermione’s eyes dropped to Draco’s arm, where she saw him rubbing his inner arm furiously as if he could rub the Dark Mark right off his skin. She couldn’t help grabbing his hand to stop it from rubbing.

As their hands touched, a jolt went between them. Theirs eyes met, Hermione’s shyly and and Draco’s intensely. She dropped her hand quickly and her eyes peered at the floor.

“Is it time, then, Granger? You lasted longer than I thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“You going to stroke that delectable button nose of yours? Stretch those petite arms? Tap your shoulders? Is the rescue team about to rush in and scurry you off to safety?” Draco leaned in, whispering in her ears.

Hermione was shocked. She took a long sip of her wine, peering at Draco thoughtfully. She was jarred enough to remember where she was and she quickly looked around the room.

Ginny was nearby, looking at her with a question mark on her face. Ginny scratched her nose, a question waiting for a response. Harry was a few steps behind her, catching up with Cho Chang and Oliver Wood, who’d recently been married.

“How – how you do know about those signals?” Hermione tried to keep her cool, but the nerves were evident in her voice.

“I know a lot of things, Granger.” Draco gave his patented smirk, leaning into to her ear, “want to get out of here?”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Pick your favorite. Cheese plate, bon bons, figs? And then let’s get the hell out of here. This scene is a bore.”

Draco almost yawned to prove his point, but in reality his heart was racing. This was his best made attempt, but he knew he stood on shaky ground.

“But – but – I don’t … you _hate me_.” Hermione stuttered.

“Do I?” Draco cocked an eyebrow, sexily, and leaned against the bar.

“Are you _coming on to me_ , Malfoy?!” Hermione asked in disbelief.

“Come with me and find out.” With that, Draco peeled away from her, carrying the cheese plate and the bon bons with him as he went.

It took everything he had to walk away from her, he was so unsure if she would follow. But it was his grand gesture, his one shot. If that didn’t warrant a dramatic gesture, what did?

Hermione watched his go and took another look at Ginny. Ginny raised both eyebrows at Hermione and looked like she was trying hard not to laugh, obviously thinking of their “shagging Malfoy” jokes from earlier.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, winked at Ginny, and downed the rest of her wine in one shot.

Grabbing the figs and a bottle of wine from behind the bar, she followed after Malfoy, hoping to all hopes that Ron, George, or _anyone she knew_ weren’t watching.


	4. Hey Granger, Wanna Shag?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the kudos and comments! Much appreciated.  
> This chapter may feel like a little bit of filler, but needed to reconnect the two of them. Sexy scenes start next chapter! Thanks for the patience. Haha.

“So where are we going?” Hermione raised the pilfered bottle of wine at Draco’s lean back. He breathed a sigh of relief that his stunt paid off.

“Don’t have to go anywhere. I own the place. Ballsack!” Draco shouted. In an instant, a house elf appeared, startling Hermione to the point that she almost dropped the wine.

“Right, then. Let’s get this out of the way, Granger. Ballsack – are you paid?”

“Yes, Mr. Draco!”

“Are you clothed?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Draco is most generous in letting me choose my very own favorite clothes!” Ballsack nodded eagerly.

At the moment, his “very favorite” outfit appeared to consist of neon polka dot swim trunks, bright green and yellow argyle golf socks pulled up to his knees, and a cozy, fuzzy, pink jumper with a giant heart on it.

“Are you happy?”

“Oh yes, Mr. Draco! Ballsack is most pleased to serve the honorable House of Malfoy and Misses Narcissa and Mr. Draco are very kind to Ballsack. Like part of the family, Ballsack is.”

“Satisfied?” With that, Draco turned to a very stunned Hermione awaiting her approval.

“Uh … yes. Thank you.”

“Great. Ballsack, can you take these food and drink refreshments to my private study and bring a change of comfortable clothing for Miss Granger?” The tiny house elf grabbed the wine from Hermione’s hands, the food trays from Draco’s, and zipped off to do Draco’s bidding without so much as a response.

Draco strode off, an incredibly shocked Hermione following behind.

“Malfoy – wait!” He slowed, allowing her to catch up.

“Did you – I mean – is your house elf _seriously_ called **Ball Sack?** ” It was too ridiculous. Hermione couldn’t stifle her the laugh erupting out of her.

“Yup!” Draco shouted with glee.

“ _Why?!_ Why on earth would you name a house elf _Ball Sack_?”

“Because then Lucius Malfoy would have to call him that.” Draco’s smirk had never been more broad.

There was a long silence until their eyes me; they broke into hysterical laughter. Draco scooped up an increasingly bewildered Hermione in his arms and carried her the rest of the way to his study, making her giggle all the way.

*****  
An hour later, Hermione was sitting in front of a roaring fire in a pullover lavender jumper made of softest fabric she’d ever felt, a fitted pair of light grey sweatpants, and fleece lined boots. She’d ditched the jewelry and the elaborate gown and pulled her hair into a simple ponytail atop her head.

She’d been too busy snickering at Ball Sack’s name to notice when Draco asked for a change of clothes for her. When they arrived, she’d been infuriated, sitting up in the chaise lounge with her arms crossed protectively across her chest.

 “You are _such a presumptive git, Draco ‘Slytherin Sex God’ Malfoy!_ I’m not one of your swooning floozies! **What** do you think we’ll be **doing** that necessitates me to have a change of clothes at the ready?”

Draco guffawed at the nickname she threw at him, but stopped laughing as she stared at him coldly and raised her wand threateningly towards him.

“You just danced for hours, Granger! You’re in heels half a foot high, poured and squeezed into that dress, and I’m sure it took you hours to get ready. I honestly just figured you would prefer to be rid of it all. You aren’t exactly that type of girl.”

“And what exactly do you mean by _that type of girl_?” Hermione fumed, “Pureblood? Refined? Beautiful?”

“ _Superficial_ , Granger.” Draco groaned, annoyed. “You’re not a _vain, superficial, egotistical_ type of girl. You _are_ refined – more than most purebloods. You couldn’t help but be well mannered and well spoken, even if you tried. Your insults to me always had flawless grammar. You didn’t even lose your poise when you were busy punching me in the nose!”

“Oh, you deserved that!” Hermione glared at him, unapologetically.

“Yes I did.“

Draco paused, taking a long breath and looking seriously into her eyes before continuing his interrupted speech, “And you’re obviously beautiful, so stop pretending you don’t know.”

Draco took pleasure in her shock. Her jaw dropped, leaving her pretty, pink, bow mouth open. Her golden brown eyes widened and for once, the infamous Hermione Granger was at a total loss for words.

 Draco didn’t wait for a response, he simply tossed the clothes in her general direction and pointed to the bathroom, “for privacy, if you’d like to change.”

There was nothing Hermione hated more than admitting that someone _else_ was right! So even though she _couldn’t wait_ to be out of her gown and heels, Hermione said nothing. Not a word. She just got up, slung the clothes over her arm, and walked towards the bathroom, turning at the last second to stick out her tongue at him like a bratty child. She could hear him laughing through the bathroom doors.

*****

An hour after she begrudgingly changed, Hermione sat across from Draco, a low table between them with a half-drunk bottle of Firewhiskey set atop. At first, they’d asked each other questions about their Hogwarts days, but quickly realized they were omitting or avoiding the best stories. The stakes needed to be raised. Enter the Firewhiskey and the games.

Draco had introduced a favorite from the Slytherin Common Room: Truth or Dare. Hermione, in true prissy Prefect fashion, had quickly vetoed the dares.

“How do you play Truth or Dare without _dares_ , Hermione?!”

 “I’m not doing dares, Malfoy, so sod off! I _know_ you. The first thing you’ll do is make me take off my jumper.”

Draco looked guilty at her, surprised she guessed his first dare so easily. _Is she psychic? Seriously? Trelawney would be impressed!_

“And I’m not wearing anything underneath my jumper, so I’m _definitely_ not doing that.”

Hermione enjoyed watching Draco at that comment. His mouth dropped open and his eyebrows raised so high, she swore they hit his hairline. She pursed her lips and blew a kiss at him, enjoying watching him squirm.

“So what the hell are we playing, Truth or Truth? I thought Gryffindors were supposed to brave!”

“Shut up, you albino ferret. We’re playing Truth or Drink. If you refuse to answer or lie, you have to drink.”

“Fine. Have you ever kissed a Professor?” And with that, Draco waited expectantly, holding the Firewhiskey towards her as if expecting her to refuse to answer.

“What are you looking at me like that for? I’ve never kissed a Professor!”

“Bollocks!” Draco sneered, disbelievingly.

“How thick are you? What Professor do you think I’ve snogged?”

“Severus Snape, obviously! You’re telling me all that bickering _wasn’t_ sexual tension?” Draco wiggled both eyebrows suggestively at her.

After Hermione stopped gagging and threatening to vomit, the game started tamely with a few minorly shocking revelations: swotty Hermione had gotten a detention (for punching Cormac McLaggen when he tried to grab her arse in the Great Hall). Draco admitted having a crush on a Hufflepuff, but was too mortified to reveal which loyal lady caught his attention. He drank instead.

Then, the game took a turn. Draco clearly had a mission: to figure out all he could about Hermione’s dating past, present, and future.

“Have you been single since you broke up with the Weasel?” Draco asked, trying to figure out what other blokes might be contending for her attention.

“Define single.”

“What do you mean ‘define single?’ Single!”

“Terms matter, Malfoy. Dating? Involved sexually but not exclusively or romantically? You call each other boyfriend or girlfriend? Ring on the finger? You’re going to have to be more specific.” Hermione challenged.

Draco’s eyebrows flew up to the top of his forehead. _What in the world was Granger talking about – involved sexually but not exclusively? She couldn’t be serious. This is School Marm Granger, for Merlin’s sake! She was joking about the sex with random muggles in bars, right?_

“Oh Merlin’s Beard. Fine – have you have a boyfriend since the Weasel?”

“Yes.”

 “Yes?!? You’ve had a boyfriend since you broke up with the Weasel?” Draco asked in disbelief.

“I’m not a nun, Malfoy! Are you mad? It’s been _four years_ since I broke up with Ron. I suppose you think my chastity belt is firmly locked as well?”

“But – why did you make me go through all the bollocks about the definition of single if you knew you had a boyfriend since?“ Draco asked, exasperated.

“Because it was fun!” Hermione shrugged. “My turn! Have you ever had sex with two members of the same family?”

Draco glared at her. Apparently, she’d heard the rumors about the Patil twins ... or the Greengrass sisters. There were a few options, honestly. He hadn’t been that discriminating in his Hogwarts years … or his post-war years, truth be told.

“Listening to the gossip mill, Granger?”

“That’s not an answer.”

“If I answer, you have to answer the same question.” Draco couldn’t believe it, but Granger turned bright red, flushed with embarrassment.

“What!? Granger! With who?”

“No. No. No. Draco Lucius Malfoy, **_that is not how the game works!_** You answer my question or refuse to answer and drink. **Then** you get to ask yours.” Hermione taunted him, sassily, looking adorably smug.

 _“_ Yes, I’ve had sex with two people in the same family. _Have you ever shagged one of Weasley twins?”_ Draco shouted, playing his best hand first. His jealous mind flit back to George’s hand on her lower back at the bar. She shook her head.

“Have you ever – “ he started again.

“ _It’s. MY. TURN. Malfoy.”_ Hermione cut him off. “Have you ever had sex with the Patil twins?”

“Define sex.” Draco smirked, happy to get revenge for her ‘define single’ tirade earlier.

“Seriously?” Hermione rolled her eyes, a look he was used to seeing from her.

“Yes. Oral sex? Anal sex? Sex with hands only? Intercourse?” Hermione blushed furiously at his lurid descriptions and quickly said “Oh God, fine! Intercourse.” Draco nodded, a bit embarrassed despite his reputation.

“Oh my lord, Draco! Did you have both of them at the same time?!?” Hermione shrieked.

“No. No. No. Hermione Jean Granger, **_that is not how the game works._** You answer my question or drink. **Then** you get to ask yours.” Draco raised his voice to a higher pitch, imitating Hermione perfectly. She couldn’t help but laugh.

This led them to a furious round of trying to figure each other out.

“Percy Weasley.”

“Ewwww, no. He is a TOTAL prat. Sex with Pansy Parkinson?”

“Guilty … and gross.” Draco grimaced. “Bill Weasley.”

“No to Bill! He’s bloody _married_ … to a _veela!_ Ever shagged a Ravenclaw?”

“Guilty. Ugh, I can’t remember all those stupid gingers. Who’s left? Well … Ginny Weasley?” Draco asked with a hopeful look.

“Keep dreaming,” Hermione rolled her eyes, then looked at him again wickedly. “Was the rumor true – did you really shag every Slytherin girl in our year?”

“Sorry to disappoint. Arthur Weasley!”

“EW. DOUBLE TRIPLE QUADRUPEL EW!! The man is my surrogate FATHER, Malfoy!”

Hermione took a shot. Draco looked at her questioningly with a face of horror, thinking she was drinking the shot because she lied or was refusing to answer.

“It’s not because I’ve _done it_ , you git! It’s because I need to clear my mind of that disgusting imagery!” Hermione shook her shoulders with disgust.

She didn’t particularly care to hear Draco’s entire roster of bedmates. For some reason she didn’t care to explore, the thought of him shagging half of Hogwarts caused a tense pit in her stomach. She decided to switch her line of questioning.

“Have You Ever cheated on a significant other.” Draco didn’t drink. He hadn’t either. 

“I know I’m forgetting a Weasley, but I don’t have the foggiest idea who. Can you help me Granger?”

“It’s breaking the rules. You’ll have to take a shot to get a clue.” Hermione waited until he’d finished downing his Firewhiskey to give it. “Romania.”

“Romania – what in the bloody hell is in Romania?” Hermione was enjoying watching him try to puzzle it out and waited with anticipation for the realization to overcome him.

“Dragons. Charlie. _You shagged Charlie Weasley?!?_ Long haired, dragon wrangling, **_Hogwarts Hall of Fame seeker Charlie Weasley_**?” Hermione didn’t say a word. She just nodded, looking a little extra saucy.

“I’m going to need details on this one. I can’t believe you shagged half the Weasley clan!”

“2 out of 7, Draco. 2 out of 7. Calm yourself. And you realize you could have asked me ‘what other Weasley did you shag?’ and saved yourself a ton of questions, right?”

“Oh piss off, Granger. You’re too smart for your own good.”

An hour later, still buzzed on Firewhiskey, they’d made a series of confessions. Hermione told Draco how she’d had a one off with Charlie when he was home one Christmas. They got good and plastered together, tried to play Quidditch on the ground (“How the hell do you play _on the ground_ , Granger?” “I was pissed and I don’t like flying!”), and ended up in tackling each other onto the grass behind the Burrow.

“One thing led to another and it was a good stress reliever. It was the year I’d returned to Hogwarts to catch up on lessons and apply to jobs.”

“Well you certainly proved you can surprise me. Isn’t he like fifteen years older than you?”

“Seven. Stop exaggerating.”

Draco had confessed that his worst shag was Pansy Parkinson and his best was, shockingly, Luna Lovegood.

“ **When** did you shag **Luna?** ”

“She came to me Fourth year and said that some whizzing fingbee whispered in her ear and told her that we were destined to have a night of excellent sex that evening. So we did. And it _was_.”

Hermione couldn’t help giggling as he continued. “Every time I approached her for a repeat performance, she said the time has passed because the moon had shifted alignment or some strange rambling. I didn’t totally understand.”

“One usually doesn’t, when dealing with Luna.” Hermione paused, carefully. “She told me … she told me you were very good to her, when she was captured.”

“ **Here.** Hermione, you can say it. She was captured and held prisoner **here.** ”

“Yes. Thank you for trying to take care of her.”

“That never should have happened to her. Or you. They were _psychopaths_ , Granger, and I’m glad they’re dead or imprisoned. I wish the ones imprisoned were dead too. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret that day with you.”

Draco’s steely gray eyes bore into hers, earnestly. “I should have fought Bellatrix. I should have fought all of them.”

Hermione shook her head and said quietly, “You would have died. Your family would have been murdered as punishment.”

“Maybe that would have been okay.” Draco’s words rang true. There wasn’t a hint of hesitation. He meant it, fully.

This was the first moment in the entire evening that Hermione felt truly uncomfortable around him, a shocking fact given their history. But this moment was too much for this night. It interrupted the fun, the chemistry, the unexpected flirtation they’d developed. 

She felt a desperate need to change the subject and took hold of the first thought that jumped into her head. “Hey! Before! You called me Hermione Jean Granger.”

“That’s your name.”

“But how did you know? Hermione _Jean_ Granger.”

“Fourth year at Hogwarts, I snuck into the records office and looked at your file.”’

“Why?!” Hermione asked, instantly furious.

“I wanted to see who was top of our class that year and I knew it was either me or you!”

“Reeeaalllly? And who _was_ top of our class that year? _And every year?_ ” Hermione grinned proudly, already knowing the answer.

Now Draco found himself desperate to change the subject. “Hey Granger, wanna shag? I promise not to tell the Daily Prophet.”

“WHAT?!?”


	5. Never Thought I'd See You Crawl, Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks - definitely motivating to make me write. ;)
> 
> WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER. If you're not into sexytime - skip it.
> 
> Hi all - changed the rating to Explicit for this fic instead of Mature because as I was writing the next few chapters, it seemed more appropriate. Will be a couple smutty chapters in a row, then some more plot and then we'll see! Still writing.

_“Hey Granger, wanna shag? I promise not to tell the Daily Prophet.”_

_Hermione’s mind went blank from shock. Was Draco Ferret Malfoy actually propositioning her?_

Draco smirked at her, his gray eyes fixed firmly on hers. As she struggled to respond, he began to crawl around the side of the table towards her. He still wore the pale blue dress shirt he’d had on under his robes and a pair of navy trousers, but his sleeves were rolled up and his hair had become mussed.

She gave the more casual, half-drunk Malfoy a once-over and found like she liked what she saw. He still had the lean, strong, seeker’s build he had in school, but he’d filled out some. His pecs strained under his shirt and she could see the muscles of his arms moving as he made his way towards her on his hands and knees.

“Never thought I’d see you _crawl_ , Malfoy.” Hermione couldn’t help saying.

“Some things are worth crawling for.” He said, smoothly, confidently. He’d reached her end of the table and he leaned in towards her. He brushed his face against her neck and rubbed against her like a cat.

“You smell edible, Granger – like vanilla and jasmine and sweetness.”

Hermione meant to have a snarky response, but the second his skin touched hers, she lost all train of thought. She inhaled deeply, smelling the Firewhiskey on his breath. His hands grabbed her waist and lifted her easily onto the table.

Draco set himself between her legs, pushing them gently apart. Hermione’s thoughts spun out of control as he began to kiss down the side of her jaw, her neck.

  _I should stop him. What am I doing?! This is Draco “call you Mudblood” Malfoy, for Circe’s sake! Oh Merlin, that feels good._ He hit a spot under her jaw that was especially sensitive and she felt a shiver go down her spine _._

It took all of her will power to place her hands on his chest and push him back gently. His chest was firm and tense under her hands. _Stop getting distracted by his body! Get it together, woman!_

“Draco – I can’t. We shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” He didn’t stop kissing her neck, one hand stroking her back, the other teasing the waistband of her pants.

 “I don’t know what closet you were hiding in to hear every word of my conversation with Ginny, but I was _joking_ about shagging you, Malfoy. It wasn’t a serious plan.”

“The random muggles in bars? Did that happen? That didn’t seem like you.” Draco stopped for a minute to look in her eyes, wanting to judge the honesty of her response, his curiosity overwhelming him.

He didn’t like the thought of anyone else getting to touch her, smell her, taste her.

“I’ve had two boyfriends and a smattering of dates in almost five years, Draco. A girl has needs.” Hermione said, defensively. “But I didn’t _know_ them! There’s no _history_. Just a few drunken one offs. We didn’t even exchange mobile numbers. It’s _different_ with you.”

“It can be whatever you want it to be with me.”

She tried to say something back, but Draco was done listening. He cut her off by leaning in to kiss those pink pouty lips. He started soft and easy, his hand on the back of her neck holding her close to him. He expected her to pull away, to say stop, to protest. But all she did was moan. It was music to his ears.

And then she did what she always did to him – she took him by surprise. She grabbed him and pulled his body tight to hers. She deepened their kiss forcefully, nipping his lower lip.

They were 10 seconds into this kiss and it was already the best of Draco’s life … and for him, there’d been a lot of kisses.

He picked her up swiftly off the table, her legs wrapped tightly around him. He sat on the sofa with her on top of him. She pulled off her jumper, revealing that she’d been honest before. She _was_ bare underneath. Draco was amazed by her.

_Of **course** , she’s a hell cat. She’s always been an uncontrollable force! Granger can’t be tamed. _

She grabbed his hands, placing them on her round breasts. She’d filled out since her Hogwarts days too and her breasts felt full and heavy in his hands. Draco moaned and ran his thumbs over her nipples as she writhed above him, feeling them harden under his touch.

She was absolute perfection – all tanned skin, rosy pink buds. She had a scattering of freckles across her skin and her face was flushed with excitement.

He was so taken aback by her that he’d stopped moving, stopped doing anything. Hermione looked at him with a question mark on her face.

“Draco? **Move.** Touch. Feel. Pinch!” She used her hands over his, rolling her nipples, impatient.

“Okay, okay! Of course, you’re still just as bossy as ever.”

“You love it.” As if to prove her point, she rolled her hips above him, grinding onto him. And then, she truly felt him hard underneath her for the first time.

“ _Bloody hell, Malfoy!_ Where have you been hiding **that?!** ”

“I had to learn how to use a Disillusionment Charm around you, Granger. You know how many times I got hard as something you said in Potions? You’re so bloody smart, Hermione – ”

She cut him off, thrilled by the thought of him lusting after her in class. She kissed him deeply and moved one of his hands to her arse. He took the hint and squeezed and she moaned appreciatively. She tore at his shirt impatiently.

“One of us is wearing too many clothes.”

“No, Hermione, don’t.”

“Come on, lose it.”

“Don’t!” Draco grabbed at his inner arm and Hermione stopped pulling, understanding dawning on her face.

“It’s okay, Draco. I know.” She said softly, slowing unbuttoning his shirt.

“I don’t want you to see.” He lowered his eyes, ashamed.

“I know it’s there, Draco. We both have scars.”

As she finished taking off his shirt, she looked him over carefully. His Dark Mark stood out against his pale skin, subtly faded since the end of the war, but still clearly visible. Scars scattered his chest from where Harry has used Sectumsemptra against him. There were other scars whose stories she did not know.

She ran her fingers over them all and Draco shivered, his hands moving up her arms. She stopped him when his hand hit her MUDBLOOD scar.

Healers had tried, she had researched fervently, but the scar remained. Some cursed wounds simply couldn’t be fixed. Even magic had its limits.

“Hermione, I’m so sorry – “

“Stop. We all have scars. It’s part of who we are. You shouldn’t be embarrassed. You shouldn’t hide. Just be who you are _now_.”

He raised his eyes to meet hers and saw how serious she was. He felt a sense of forgiveness, even though she hadn’t said the words.

“Do you … could you ever forgive me?”

“I will if you take off your pants!” Hermione laughed, deeply. She hopped off him, cocking an eyebrow and pulling off the rest of her clothes.

She stood before him, hands on her hips, challenging him to refuse. He laughed at her eagerness, her utter confidence in her body, the way her head tilted up proudly.

“Who could refuse you?”

As he finished undressing, Hermione froze. He looked like a Greek God, all sculpted abs and strained muscles. Her eyes couldn’t help dropping down and she felt her jaw drop. His cock stood at attention and was just as big as it felt beneath her. He was long and thick and she licked her lips wantonly.

“Merlin, you’re beautiful Hermione.” Draco’s eyes scanned her body – her C cup breasts, her slender waist, her curvy behind. She was a dream and he didn’t want to wake up.

He picked her up, hands on her arse and carried her to his desk. He sat her down and quickly murmured a Cushioning spell on the floor as he kneeled in front of her. She tried to stop him from breaking his body away from her, but he pushed her shoulders down so she lay flat on her back. He ran his fingers up her body, grazing her breasts, her stomach, and her sides as she whimpered.

Draco remembered her vulgar comments to the Weaslette earlier and wanted to test a theory. _Did Granger enjoy hearing filthy words as much as she liked saying them?_

“Your nipples are so nice and hard for me, Granger. Do you want me to take one in my mouth?”

Hermione gasped and stared at him, her eyes full of lust. She nodded, blushing. His words had her on fire and she wanted to hear more, feel more, taste more.

He hovered over her, taking a nipple in his mouth – sucking, licking, biting until she begged for more – going from one to the other until both stood up proudly on her chest.

“Your tits are so full and perfect, Granger. I can’t get enough of you. I’ve dreamt of touching you for so long.” His fingers ran down her stomach to the tiny nest of curls above her cleft. She was bare otherwise, soft and smooth. “Is your pussy wet for me, love?”

This time Hermione noticed his term of affection, but found that it didn’t bother her at all. The way he was touching her – it was passionate, yes, but not rough. It was careful – loving even.

“Please Draco, don’t stop. You feel so good.”

He ran a finger between her lower lips and was pleased to find her slick with desire. “Oh that’s a good girl, all nice and wet for me.”

Hermione groaned instantly as he called her a good girl and he took notice. He rubbed his finger through her lips, circling her clit on each pass. She was panting now, her hands on her own breasts, squeezing and rolling her nipples roughly.

“Draco, I want you. I need to feel you inside me.”

“You will, but not yet. I want to taste you while you come.” Hermione cried out as he pushed a finger inside her, thrusting gently. It had been a little while for her and she felt tight around his finger. She arched her back off the desk, her head falling back.

“Merlin, Hermione, you’re so tight. I’m going to let you ride my fingers and my tongue until you’re ready for my cock. Is that what you want, love?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes!” She thrust her hips at him, rocking against him as he added another finger. He spread her legs wide on the desk and looking at her clearly for the first time.

“Blimey, Hermione, even your pussy is beautiful.” He kept pounding his fingers into her, picking up speed as he bent down and ran his tongue all around her clit, refusing to touch it.

“Bloody hell, Draco, please!”

“Please, what?”

“You know what!” She growled with frustration, pushing his head back towards her.

“Say it or I’ll stop all together. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.” It was Draco’s turn to be bossy.

“Lick my clit, please! I need you!” She was so close and straining against his fingers. She pinched her nipples hard, desperate to finish.

Without delay, Draco leaned in and flicked his tongue over her clit. She moaned raggedly and he began to suck on it gently, knowing how close she was. He sucked a little harder and then said, up against her, “Come for me, Hermione, like the _good girl_ you are.”

She exploded. She saw shooting stars, she clenched every muscle from her top to her toes. She had the biggest orgasm of her life and she had **Draco bloody Malfoy** to thank for it.


	6. Do You Want to Hear My Secret, Malfoy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: SMUTTY CHAPTER. 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos! Almost 50 - so cool! We've got some bookmarks, some comments. Now we're cruising! Thanks for reading.

Draco leaned back on his knees, looking up at Hermione. She was still trembling and panting, coming down off her high.

Draco’s mind was racing – he didn’t want this to end; he didn’t want to blow his chance with her. When the afterglow wore off, he didn’t want her to run, to think, to rationalize her way away from him.

Draco cast a quick Scourgify on his mouth. He honestly didn’t want to – she tasted amazing – but he did it in case it bothered her. He didn’t wait for her to recover. He didn’t wait for her to say a word.

He simply picked her up and asked “Do you trust me?”

Hermione stared into his eyes, calculating, and made a quick decision. She nodded, her arms wrapped around tightly around his neck as he held her.

Draco held her even closer and spun, apparating to his flat. They landed gracefully and he laid her down on his espresso-colored leather sofa, placing a soft fur blanket over her body.

“Did you just _apparate_ with me _stark naked?_ ” Hermione questioned, like an angry headmistress.

“Yes.”

“What if we’d _splinched ourselves_? You want the two of _us_ to go to St. Mungos **_together_ … _naked?!?_** ”

“It’s my flat, Granger. I know where I’m going and how to land here. We were never going to splinch ourselves.” Draco rolled his eyes. _Gods, Granger can be dramatic._

Draco winked and pulled the blanket away from her, trying to sneak a peek at her sinfully addictive body. “And Granger, if _you’re_ naked, I’ll go with you _anywhere_ : St. Mungos, Potter’s ‘I’m the Chosen One, let’s Celebrate ME’ party, every boring bookstore in muggle London, you name it.”

“What about my clothes? What about _your_ clothes? We just left everything tossed all over your study!”

“Ball sack will bring them for us.”

“Your house elf really needs a new name, Malfoy.”

“I tried to change it when Lucius went to Azkaban. He refused. Apparently, he loves his name as much as he likes swim trunks.”

Hermione’s heart had finally returned down to a normal pace after her mind-blowing orgasm. She sat up, holding the blanket firmly to her chest and looking around curiously. If you asked her what she expected Malfoy’s flat to look like, this wasn’t it. She expected all dark wood, heavy vintage furniture, Slytherin greens and silvers. She expected ballrooms and crown molding and luxury.

This flat was clearly expensive, but modern and sleek. The kitchen had bright white cabinets and backsplash tile, with stainless steel appliances and warm gray marble countertops. It was obviously costly but not ostentatious. The walls throughout the flat were painted warm blues, beiges, and grays. It felt homey, not overstated. Quite honestly, it looked like a muggle interior design magazine.

Hermione smiled, noting a few Bachelor pad touches: the large billiards table, the expansive bar, the leather couch beneath her. Draco nervously watched her take it all in.

“What – what are you looking at?” He asked, anxiously.

“Your flat, Draco. Obviously.”

“What are you thinking? I know you’re thinking _something_. It’s written all over your face.”

“It just surprises me. This place couldn’t be _less_ like the Manor. Why are we here, anyway? I thought you said you lived at the Manor?”

“No, I said I _owned_ the Manor. I haven’t lived there since we graduated Hogwarts.”

“Why not?”

“Would you want to live there?”

“Well no, but obviously for me – it’s a little traumatic.” Hermione wrinkled her nose at the thought of living there and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“It’s a little traumatic for a lot of people.” Draco said honestly. “It hasn’t been my home in a long time.”

“Doesn’t your mother still live there?”

“No. We’re planning to turn it into a property for charitable purposes. Tonight was a test run. We’re considering donating it to be an orphanage or low income housing for families. There’s a lot of proposals to wade through.”

Hermione’s brain kicked into analysis mode. _How best to use such a property? The grounds were expansive, for sure, and would be perfect for hosting outdoor summer and fall events. The ballroom could be divided and made into classrooms. A free wizarding school for younger pre-Hogwarts students was an intriguing concept._

“Granger, **stop it.** ”

“Stop what?” Hermione’s brown eyes peered up guiltily under her long lashes at Draco.

“Stop solving the world’s problems in that enormous brain of yours. That’s not why I brought you here.”

“Why _did_ you bring me here?”

“Because I’m not going to shag you for the first time on my study _desk_ , Granger! I’m going to take my time and we’re going to _savor_ this. I’ve waited a long time for you, Hermione, and I’m not going to rush anything.”

Hermione’s eyebrows raised. _For the first time? Is he planning on making this a regular occurrence? What does he mean he’s waited a long time for me?_

Hermione shook her head as if trying to shake away her thoughts. _Don’t get ahead of yourself, Mione. You just had a brilliant orgasm and the night is young. **Enjoy.**_

Hermione looked at Draco wickedly. He was still unabashedly naked in front of her and a sight to behold. She had plans for him before the night was over.

“Draco. Sit.”

“What?”

“Was I unclear?” Hermione asked in her swottiest voice. “Sit. **Now.** ”

Hermione pointed to a high-backed chair to her left. She gave Draco her sauciest, sexiest look and wasn’t surprised when he followed her direction immediately. Naughty Hermione’s looks _never_ failed.

“Are you ready for another _Truth_ , Malfoy?” Hermione sat up, letting the blanket drop down her body, revealing her bare breasts. She got down onto the floor and sat back on her knees, her legs tucked up under her curvy bottom. Draco’s eyes roamed her naked body, hungrily.

She moved onto her hands and knees and began crawling slowly towards him. “It’s really more of a _secret_. Do you want to hear my _secret_ , Malfoy?”

“Yes,” Draco pleaded, hearing the begging tone in his voice. He was completely under her spell and felt himself hardening as he looked at her on her knees.

She was directly in front of him now, staring as his cock and licking her lips.

“My secret is this. I, Hermione Granger, **love** sucking cock.”

Draco could have died. If he had a heart attack at that exact moment, he wouldn’t have been surprised. It was too much. She leaned in close to him, rubbing her face on his left thigh, then his right.

“Would that be okay, Malfoy? If Hermione Granger sucked your cock?” Her sweet brown eyes met his.

Draco groaned and nodded, “Please. Oh Merlin, please.”

This was every fantasy he’d ever had. He’d wanked to this thought for most of his Hogwarts years. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling mischievously as she ran her tongue up the underside of his penis.

“Lots of girls suck cock, Malfoy. But not everyone loves doing it. You called me a good girl before? Well, _sometimes_ I’m good. Sometimes, I’m _not_.” She swirled her tongue around his tip and he gasped.

“Sometimes, I’m very, very, **_very_** bad.” She wrapped her hand on the bottom of his thick cock, squeezing firmly and pumping him a few times. She took the rest of him in her mouth, sliding down over him. He grunted as he felt her mouth surround him -  warm and wet. She bobbed a few times, then paused at the top of his dick.

“Sometimes, I’m the student,” she looked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent as she bobbed.

“Sometimes, I’m the teacher,” her eyes became stern and serious, sucking him deep and grabbing his arse to push him in further.

Draco grimaced, losing his breath. He’d **never** been _this close_ to coming _this early_ in a blowjob. But her words were planting one image after another in his mind.

_Good Girl Hermione in a sweet sundress, hair in pigtails with bows, sucking a lolly._

_Bad Hermione in leather and boots, a riding crop in her hand._

_Student Hermione in her Hogwarts uniform - a little shorter, tighter, and unbuttoned than permitted._

_Teacher Hermione behind a mahogany desk, a wand and book in her hand, glasses atop her head._

_He wanted her, in all those ways and more. Sex with her would never be boring, that much was true._

“Oh Gods, Hermione, I’m begging you! You have to stop talking or I’m going to come right now.”

Hermione sped up, dropping her mouth over him faster and faster, sucking in her cheeks. Draco couldn’t help thrusting a little, his hand behind her head. She seemed to love his thrusts, humming moans of pleasure around him.

He pulled back, too excited and needing to slow down. “Stop, Hermione. I need to stop.”

“No! I’m going to taste you when you come.” She grabbed his arse, pushing him deeper into her mouth.

_Who knew Granger had such a dirty mind, let alone a dirty mouth. How was she so good at this? I don’t ever want her to stop._

“Granger, wait, I’m going to – “

“Go, baby.” She sucked on his tip again and then went deep down as far as she could. She’d never had anyone so big, but between her hand and mouth she was pleasing all of him.

He looked down at her as he got close, wanting to see her face. His hands grasped the chair beneath him and he pushed forward with a final thrust calling out her name. “Hermione! Fuck, so fucking good!”

She swallowed, her lips tight around him, prolonging his orgasm for as long as she could. He stroked her face gently, panting, and trying with every fiber of his being _not_ to say what he was thinking out loud:

_Gods Granger, I love you._

 


	7. Your wish is my command, princess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the comments and kudos - so nice to see.   
> Sorry for the slight delay in posting. I had written a bunch of chapters ahead and posted a few in a row so need to catch up on the writing part! 
> 
> WARNING: SEXY STUFF IN THIS CHAPTER.

Hermione stepped out of the bathroom, after freshening up. She’d wrapped a towel around her, luxuriating in the fabric. _What was it about Malfoy’s stuff? Did he hunt down the softest fabrics in the world? First the jumper, now the towel._

Draco stood in the kitchen, wearing a soft green muggle tee shirt and jeans and cooking something on the stove. He was smiling, humming and tapping a spatula to the beats of his hums.

Hermione smirked, glad to witness such a candid moment from the normally private Draco. “Who knew you ever owned clothing in colors?” she teased.

“Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation. Does this bother you?” He gestured at his Dark Mark, which was plainly visible out. “I don’t usually wear short sleeves, but it was the first thing I found.”

She smiled at his consideration and at how easily they addressed his Mark. At the start of this evening, she wouldn’t have believed any of this possible.

“It’s fine. What are you cooking? And _how_ are you cooking?”

“Scrambled eggs, bacon. Croissants are in the oven. I figured it’s closer to breakfast than dinner. As for the how, I took the Pureblood Re-Education and Re-Integration lessons. Found I enjoyed muggle cooking.”

“I worked on that program – the curriculum and the execution of it. I don’t recall seeing you on the list.”

“My participation wasn’t compulsory. I wasn’t on the list of required attendees. It wasn’t a part of my probation.”

“But you took them anyway.” Her questions lingered in the air.

“Granger. Can we – not? Just for a moment.” Draco sighed, running his fingers through his hair, mussing it. He scratched at his Dark Mark, a nervous habit she noticed he had when they talked about the past.

“I’m sorry, I just – “

“I needed to take them. It was the right thing to do and I’ll tell you all about it at length someday. But right now, I’m just a bloke who wants to make breakfast for a girl he likes before taking her to bed and shagging her rotten.”

Hermione raised her eyes at his shagging reference and crossed her arms in frustration. She wasn’t used to her questions going unanswered.

“Is that okay if I let you interrogate me another day? I know it’s hard for your curiosity to be interrupted.”

“We’re still going to shag?” Hermione asked.

“It would be criminal for us _not_ to shag.”

Hermione giggled, tucking her towel against her closely. “How do you figure?”

“If rounds one and two were any indication, our shagging will be _legendary_. You don’t spite the Gods that way. We can’t interrupt greatness.”

Hermione rolled her eyes “Good to see your **ego** is still as _legendary_ as it was in Hogwarts.”

As she went to sit at a kitchen stool, Draco nodded to a door off the side of the entryway. “Your clothes are in there if you want to warm up. I had Ball Sack bring the outfit you wore to the event, some comfortable clothes, and pajamas.” Hermione smiled and snuck off to get comfortable.

A half hour later, Hermione spun on her kitchen stool happily. “If anything here is legendary, it’s those scrambled eggs. I could eat ten plates of those.”

“Now Granger dear, that sounds like a challenge.”

“What challenge?!”

“A challenge to show you what _else_ I can do that’s legendary.” He smirked at her.

“ _Ewww_ … is this the Slytherin Sex God talking? Spare me!”

“Hermione, I’ve never wanted _anyone_ like I want you right now. If I need to beg, I’ll beg. If I need to convince, I’ll convince. If I need to bribe you with another round of scrambled eggs, I’ll bribe.”

Hermione laughed and he loved the sound. It was so easy, carefree. Not at all like the tense, stressed, overtired Hermione he’d encountered at the start of the night. If he was even _a little_ responsible for that laugh, he felt lucky.

No wonder she’d had so many admirers: Krum, McLaggen, Weasel #1 and #2 (and, by the looks of George Weasley earlier tonight, #3). He knew there were even more interested parties that never got anywhere: Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom. Half of the Slytherin Quidditch team talked about her in the locker room!

“Alright then, let’s not spite the Gods” she rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards … nowhere. “I suddenly realize I have no idea where I’m taking you. Where are we going?”

He laughed and scooped her up again, walking towards his bedroom.

“You don’t have to carry me everywhere, you know. My legs work just fine.” Hermione huffed in irritation.

“I like the feel of you in my arms, Granger. Deal with it.”

She rolled her eyes at him and then snuggled into him as he walked. _Only Granger could be simultaneously annoyed and happy_ , Draco thought fondly.   

*****

Once in the bedroom, Hermione suddenly got shy. For some reason, the stopping and starting of this evening made it feel … more significant. It was easy to claim you got carried away in a one night stand when it happened fast without time to think.

She’d had time. She’d _thought_. And **wanted** to have sex with Draco Malfoy.

Draco felt an internal shift in Hermione. She had been laughing moments ago when he dropped her on the bed and pulled off their clothes frantically, but in seconds, something had changed.

“Granger, get out of your head. Come back to me.”

She laughed, “How do you always catch me?”

He shrugged, kissing her ankles and working his way slowly up her calves, “I’m observant.”

“Oh really, Mr. Malfoy. Share some of your insightful observations with me.”

“You don’t eat sweets,” he kissed her knees. “You helped Longbottom through Potions when Snape wasn’t looking. You hid from McLaggen in the curtains at Slughorn’s Slug Club party.” He kissed one hip gently, then the other.

“Just how long have you been stalking me, Malfoy?” Hermione giggled.

“Not stalking, just observant,” kissing her bellybutton.

“Ah! That tickles!” She squirmed in a way that made her breast bounce teasingly.

He made his way to her chest and looked up at her hungrily. She blushed and pulled her lower lip between her teeth, biting it nervously.

“That! **That** made me want to stalk you.”

“What?”

“Biting that pretty little lip of yours, Granger! You would do it when you’re thinking in class and it was absolute _torture_. I wanted to **be** that lip, Granger.”

Hermione laughed and gently bit her lower lip again, taunting him. She rolled him over, snogging him fiercely as she straddled him. She leaned her body back away from him, rolling her hips to get the friction from below. She rubbed her clit against his hardness, moaning.

Draco grabbed her hips as he thrust towards her, increasing the friction. She cried out, surprised but wanting more. She felt slick against him and he ran a thumb up to her clit, rubbing it as she ran his hard length between her pussy lips.

“Oh my GOD, Malfoy. I need to feel you inside me. I’m done waiting.”

Draco pulled her down close to him and kissed her neck, whispering in her ear. “Is it – is it okay if we start with you on top?” He paused, embarrassed. “It’s just – sometimes it’s easier for … it helps …”

Hermione looked at him puzzled until she realized he was trying to tell her something she already knew. He was blushing and avoiding her eyes.

“Draco, your cock is huge. I need to be on top to start. I _want_ to control how deep you go at first. Is that what you’re trying to say, you prat?” Hermione raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

“Yes, you bleeding know it all.” He closed his eyes, mortified, until Hermione leaned in and breathily said into his ear “I’m going to feel so tight around you, Malfoy. You ready?” All he could do was nod.

Hermione reached her hand down and slipped a finger inside herself, then two, thrusting them in as she moaned, getting herself ready. But she wanted him too badly to wait any longer and she was plenty wet. She positioned him in place, rising her body above him.

He reached up and rubbed her clit as she began to lower herself onto him. He was wider than anyone she’d been with before, but not by too much. But Gods, he was long. She began to settle onto him, crying out as he rubbed her clit.

Draco softly said “Accio wand” and placed it over her abdomen as she started to ride him. As his tip entered her an inch or so, stretching her slowly, she cried out in an orgasm that caught her completely by surprise. At the same time, Draco cast a Contraceptive charm and thrust into her slowly from below.

 _Merlin’s Beard, she is so tight! I can’t believe how hot she is._ Hermione’s orgasm finished, leaving her wet and warm around him as she moaned and gasped. He continued to thrust gently as she came down from her high, her inner muscles squeezing him intensely.

“Fuck, Draco. Holy shit.” Hermione got her strength back and she began to ride him. His cock was more than halfway in and she slammed herself down on him, guiding him in the rest of the way. As she grinded on his cock, her breasts bounced magnificently. She panted and moaned above him, rolling her hips so she hit her clit now and then as she moved.

“You’re so bloody sexy, Granger. Your pussy’s so tight and wet for me.” Draco pounded up into her, grabbing her arse and squeezing hard. As he did, she yelped with pleasure. He smacked her cheeks lightly with the palm of his hand and she begged for more.

“I need it harder, Malfoy. Please!”

Draco flipped her onto her back and slid into her again, one hand pinching her nipple. Her back arched on the bed, thrusting her tits into the air.

“Oh Gods, you’re so big. Don’t stop! You feel so good, baby.”

Draco smirked at the thought of Hermione calling him baby – it wasn’t exactly a term he’d let _anyone_ call him before. But this was pure, swotty, bookworm Hermione Granger: writhing beneath him, her pussy clenching at his dick, moaning and begging for more. This time, he wasn’t complaining. This one was worth making an exception for.

“Tell me what you want, love.” Draco asked.

“Don’t stop! Harder, baby, go harder!”

Draco decided to stop being so careful with her. _She’s asking for more – give it to her!_ He grabbed her hips with both hands and pounded into her harder, faster. She was moaning furiously, calling out his name.

“Your cock feels so good. Bloody hell, Malfoy. Fuck me!”

Draco could tell he was getting close. She was glistening below him, thrusting her hips up to meet his. Her pussy felt like a vice around him, her inner muscles squeezing with each thrust. She was silky and hot and everything he’d dreamed of all those years. Her eyes were closed tight, her pink lips parted as she panted with exertion.

“Look at me, Hermione. I want to see you.” She looked up quickly, her eyes filled with lust.

He leaned down to kiss her as he fucked her, wanting to taste her lips. He sucked the spot on her neck he’d found earlier and felt victorious as he heard her cry out. He kept thrusting, feeling her body shift to let him even deeper.

“So bloody good, Draco. I want to feel you come.”

Draco was so close to coming and wanted to stop himself. He slowed his movements slightly, leaning away from her. Hermione reached up, grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close to her.

“You’re going to fuck me _hard_ and _fast_ and I’m going to feel you come inside me. **Now.** ” Hermione’s sweet brown eyes bore into his, her filthy words causing his cock to flex inside her.

“Your wish is my command, princess.” Draco loved her bossy side and he sped up his pace, holding nothing back.

Hermione began to close her eyes as she screamed in pleasure, but remembered that Draco wanted to see her. She met his eyes and grabbed his shoulders, her nails digging into them fiercely. As Draco looked in her eyes, he was done for. He came into her and she came right along with him, clenching him through his orgasm.

After he finished, he collapsed on her, trying to hold his weight off her body.

“C’mere,” Hermione said, sleepy after her third orgasm of the night. She stroked the back of his head, her fingers running through his platinum locks. She lulled him into a near sleep. He curled up next to her, his arm circling around her and pulling her close. Hermione quickly cast quick Scourgify and Nox charms and let herself rest … for the first time in a long time.


	8. You're acting like Lavender bloody Brown!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for all the kudos (almost over 100 - cool!) and comments (keep 'em coming, love to see what you like) and bookmarks. No sex in this chapter - moving the plot along. 
> 
> I'm officially caught up with what I pre-wrote, so posts may slow down a tiny bit, but try to keep to a pretty even schedule.

After the Second Wizarding War, many witches and wizards experienced side effects like those found in muggles’ Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. They experienced flashbacks, nightmares, and intrusive thoughts, had heightened startle response to noise or stimuli, and found difficulty sleeping.

Many sought out normal culprits to drown out their problems: calming droughts, sleeping potions, an overabundance of Firewhiskey. Others tried healthier approaches. Harry was a fervent exerciser. He stuck to a rigid Auror training schedule, tiring himself into a good night’s sleep. When Ginny was in the off season from Quidditch, they trained together – starting in the morning before the sun came up, seven days a week.

Sundays found Harry and a smattering of Weasleys gathered at the Burrow for a competitive Quidditch match followed by a leisurely brunch. They invited a rotating roster of former Quidditch professionals and Hogwarts Hall of Famers to join them to keep the level of competition high.

Others found relief in vices. For Draco, his cure was sex - sex with a stranger, a friend, an ex, it didn’t matter. He rarely sought out sex for the sex itself; mostly, it was a means to an end. He pursued sex to find what he _truly_ craved: the blissfully calm sleep afterwards. It gave him a safe haven from the night terrors and hypervigilance that normally occupied his restless nights.  

Hermione faced the problem like she did anything else: with extensive research, study, and undying determination. She quickly zeroed in on Occlumency as a possible area of study. If Occlumency protected one’s mind against _external_ penetration, then perhaps it could also protect one’s mind from _internal_ disruption.

The year Hermione returned to Hogwarts, she asked Minerva if she could work with Harry and the Aurors Department to train her mind in Occlumency. She wanted to study the use of Occlumency skills to treat trauma. It became a private thesis with a study pool of one at first: Hermione Granger, patient #1.

She began practicing Occlumency with Harry, then others. She summoned all of her Gryffindor courage and bravely put herself in front of anyone who would help her, asking them to try to infiltrate her mind. She worked with Kingsley, Minerva, the Aurors Department, allowing herself to be vulnerable and open in front of them despite the intimate nature of many of her memories. She was a woman with a mission and her mission was paramount. If she needed to be a sacrificial lamb to help others, she would do it. This was important.

As she worked through her process, Hermione found herself wishing desperately that Snape had made it through the war. Her former professor terrified her, but he drove her to her best work. With her sheer determination and his mastery of Occlumency, the two of them could have easily solved the problem in much less time. Nevertheless, Hermione solved it on her own.

She found that she could train her mind to place certain memories in different areas of her brain. For Hermione, of course, it was easiest to imagine her brain as a library. She found all the difficult memories that she wanted to contain and treated them as “books.” She placed the books in a Restricted section of her “library” or mind, where they were not easily reachable.

It was an enormous breakthrough and it changed Hermione’s quality of life dramatically. She could compartmentalize her emotions, psychological trauma, and fear of the memories, while retaining the _facts_ of them in her mind. If she wanted or needed to revisit those feelings, they were there – waiting in her Restricted section to be accessed. When Hermione testified at the post-war trials, she was able to give her testimony, finish the day, and place those memories back in her Restricted section filed away. There was a separation, a dividing line, that hadn’t existed before.

It was the start of a new branch of healing and St. Mungos dedicated a hospital wing to an initial round of trials. They wanted to name the treatment after Hermione, but she vehemently refused. She asked to name it after her beloved Hogwarts librarian, Madam Pince, who died in the Battle at Hogwarts. Volunteers lined up to participate in the Pince trials, anxiously hopeful for their future.

Although groundbreaking, the treatment worked better during waking hours. At night, the mind drifted into subconscious, then unconscious states, making it was harder to the keep the books planted firmly on their Restricted shelves. Its efficacy at nighttime depended on a complete lifestyle shift: patients had to maintain a strict sleep, exercise, diet, and low-stress regimen. The treatment was less effective when one was overtired, stressed, or ill.

Hermione had been overtired, over-worked, and stressed for about 5 years. Try as she might, she could not hold herself to the strict regimen she’d helped develop. She knew the methodology; she knew the risks of altering her routine. But Hermione Granger was born a workaholic. It was in her DNA. It was in her core personality. It was hard to change.

Occlumency helped Hermione, but most nights were still restless at best. On bad nights, she woke sweating, screaming, not knowing where she was, and would floo to Ron’s or Harry’s. Just being in a space with someone else nearby was helpful.

When things got especially harrowing (usually nightmares involving Bellatrix or Fenrir Greyback), she would climb into bed with Ron or Harry and Ginny. They were family now and forever, their bounds of friendship cemented by the burdens they’d shared.

*****

Tonight, Draco and Hermione lay together fast asleep and intertwined completely. He lay on his back with her head resting on his pale chest, her wild curls spread across him. His muscled arm circled around her, holding her close to his side. At some point in the night, she’d thrown one leg over him. They slept soundly – no nightmares, no intrusive thoughts, just deep, heavy, blissfully uninterrupted sleep.

When Hermione awoke, it was starting to brighten outside. She woke up feeling happy, content, safe, and – for the first time in a long time – well rested. She sat up, stretched and then laid back down, wanting a few more stolen minutes in bed. She rolled over and looked directly into the face of Draco Malfoy.

_What in Merlin’s Beard is DRACO BLOODY MALFOY doing in my bed?!? **Is this even my bed?**_

Hermione’s eyes widened as the whole night before came rushing back: the witty banter, the Firewhiskey-laced Truth or Drink game … and then, the rest! Hermione felt her skin grow hot as she recalled being pressed back on his study desk as he tasted her, crawling to take him in her mouth, and that brilliant, _mindblowing_ shag.

Hermione was sure if she looked in the mirror she would be as red as a tomato. Her mind raced over all the things she’d _said_ and _done_ the night prior and she blushed harder than she ever had in her life. Everything that seemed sexy and fun and adventurous the night before suddenly seemed wanton and crass and embarrassingly in the dawning of the new day.

_Gods, what must he think of me? He probably thinks I’m some slag who goes home with every wizard in London! The way I drooled over him – I told him I love sucking cock! I mean, **I** **do,** but I **told him!**_

Hermione took a deep breath, calming herself. _Honestly, Hermione, he didn’t seem to mind anything about last night, so get control of yourself. Last night was bloody fantastic – don’t ruin it already! You’ve been awake less than a minute._

She shifted slightly away from Draco, hoping not to wake him. She needed to see him as he was now – restful and unguarded. His face looked rounder in the morning with no sharp expressions carving lines in his face. He breathed in and out slowly, his brilliant chest rising and falling softly with each breath.

She felt a pang of desire for him, wanting impulsively to rouse him with softly kisses and caresses. To surprise him with breakfast and tea in bed. To walk down the street with him to a café and read together on the patio.

Suddenly, she felt like she’d been doused with ice water. A chill came over her and she quickly pulled her jumper from the floor and threw it over her naked body. She would be doing none of those things with Draco Malfoy.

This night was a deviation from reality. It was a moment of madness. Even if she _wanted_ to do any of those things, there was a decent chance Malfoy would wake up and kick her to the curb. It was a one off! A Firewhiskey infused mistake. Perhaps a bit of a Pureblood rebellion – shag a muggle-born – makes for a good story at the former Death Eaters club. But even as she thought it, it felt **wrong.**

_It didn’t **feel** like a one off. It didn’t feel meaningless or quick or all that drunken, even. He told me he liked me … and from the sounds of it, he’d liked me back in our Hogwarts days (or least found me physically attractive enough to fantasize about). He made me **breakfast** , for Circe’s sake! _

She couldn’t deny their physical compatibility. He was, by far, the best sex she’d ever had. They seemed so evenly matched – like fire and ice. The way he spoke to her, his dirty words lighting fire to her core. The way his hands touched her, first soft and caressing, then rough and passionate. It was perfect. **He** was perfect.

 _You’re barmy, Hermione! Stop it! This is Draco Malfoy you’re mooning over. You’re acting like **Lavender bloody Brown** , swooning and moaning! He’s **not** perfect. He’s a spoiled, pureblood, ass hat. He’s completely egotistical, entirely in love with himself, and a git Slytherin through and through_.

Hermione heard a bird chirp outside and looked for a clock. As she found the time, she shot up in an absolute panic. She was _late._ **Hermione Jean Granger was late!**

She needed to _move_. She whispered a quick “Accio Hermione’s belongings,” jotted out a quick note to Draco, and apparated back to her flat.

*****

Draco awoke with a start, feeling like he’d lost something. He looked himself over and glanced around the room quickly but nothing seemed out of place. Shrugging, he rolled over, tucking himself back under his blankets to go back to sleep. The mattress felt cold beside him.

_Granger!_

He looked frantically around, but there was no sign of her. For a moment, he was almost convinced the whole thing had been a dream. He’d had enough Granger sex dreams for it to be a serious quandary.

He stretched his lean arms over his head and felt her mark on him – the light scratch marks on his back from her nails, a sore spot on his shoulder where she’d bit him gently as she came. _It was real, it had to be. So where is she?_

After he’d walked the whole flat, his stomach tightened as he realized she wasn’t there. His mind raced over the night before, trying to puzzle out his mistake. _Did I offend her? Did I do something wrong?_

He shook his head at himself, furious. _You took her home from a ball after half a bottle of Firewhiskey, Draco. Did you think she’d think it was true love? She probably thinks this is just a drunken one off and did the Apparate of Shame this morning so she wouldn’t have to talk to you. You didn’t exactly declare you intentions last night between all the thrusting and dirty talking._

Draco was at the start of an epically bad mood when a piece of paper on his dresser caught his eye. He opened it to see her neat, feminine writing.

_Draco,_

_Thank you for an exceptional evening. I’m sorry to have left without a word this morning, but I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful and after last night, I rather thought you could use the rest. You worked very hard. I’m quite grateful._

_I have to catch an international portkey for work this morning. I’m nearly missing it so I need to leave quickly. Forgive my poor departure._

_Best,_

_Hermione_

Draco sighed deeply, willing his heart to slow down. It had begun to race when he couldn’t find her in his flat. _Get it together, Malfoy! You had one night with the girl. You’re acting like **Lavender bloody Brown** , that swooning schoolgirl! You are better than this. You’ve wooed better than this!_

_So, she had a work obligation. So what? It’s Sunday. She’ll likely be gone a few days and you can send her an owl this week. Get control of yourself! It’ll be a few days, that’s all._

*****

But it wasn’t a few days.

Draco tried to play it cool, but by Monday he’d already sent her a playful owl. By Tuesday, the lack of response annoyed him. It occurred to him that if she was still abroad, she may not be receiving domestic owls, so he had a flurry of excitement after realizing that her lack of response may not have been a snub afterall. She simply may not have gotten his transparent attempt at flirting.

Draco worked in the Ministry also and by Wednesday, he couldn’t help dropping by her floor to see if she was around. She was “traveling abroad,” her secretary told him with an infuriating amount of vagueness. He tried to dig for more details, but as the secretary’s curiosity rose so did her eyebrows. Draco quickly made off like he didn’t care and exited.

After his regular owls went unanswered, he attempted to send international tracking falcons that delivered messages abroad anywhere in the world. His messages went out with purpose and came back with no response. After a week, the sinking feeling in his stomach returned. After ten days, his nights were even more sleepless than usual.

After a fortnight, he was admittedly desperate. He felt like a lovesick fool. He was embarrassed and humiliated by how much he cared, but even his embarrassment couldn’t stop him from taking extreme measures. Draco Lucius Malfoy was going to _ask for help_ from Harry “I’m famous for not dying” Potter.


	9. It was All Malfoy, All the Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little short - just seemed like a natural break and WAY too long if kept with the next chapter. LIttle Hermione fantasizing but no major smut. ;)
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos - keep 'em coming!

Hermione was sitting at _another_ tedious meeting in _another_ conference room with _another_ inexplicably long table. After more than a fortnight in France, she was starting to go absolutely bonkers.

As Deputy Directory of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Hermione routinely traveled abroad meeting with figureheads from foreign wizarding Ministries. When she’d first been told of this trip, she was _overjoyed, enthused, ecstatic_ even!

There hadn’t been a Triwizard Tournament since Cedric Diggory’s death in their Fourth year. After missing the following tournament during the rise and fall of the Dark Lord, there had been much debate about how to go forward. Many felt that the time would never be right for a Triwizard Tournament again. At first, no one mentioned it as even a possibility.

It was a dark reminder of a dark time – a wonderful tradition turned tragedy. But with time, wizards and witches began to crave a return to their heritage and traditions and debate raged anew. Many, including Hermione, argued that never holding the tournament again would be letting Voldemort win.

The Triwizard Tournament was a celebration of wizarding skill, wit, and courage! It was a chance for wizarding cultures across the globe to join together in friendly competition and create relationships that could last a lifetime.

Ultimately, _it wasn’t the **Tournament**_ that killed Cedric – it was Voldemort!

One of Hermione’s earliest assignments as a junior member of her Department was to research public opinion about the tournament and develop a plan for how to best sway opposition. It took several years and her efforts began underground. She met privately with members of foreign Minisitries _long_ before ever meeting with them publicly, but they did make progress.

They formed a Committee to explore the possibility of holding a future tournament and eventually, came to a compromise. The Committee decided to hold the next Tournament as part of the 5 year celebrations of Voldemort’s defeat. It was technically a year late, but everyone felt that it would be a touching tribute to Cedric Diggory to celebrate his life and the courageous way he faced his tasks by allowing other youngsters to do the same.

It never would have happened without Hermione. Quite frankly, anyone with safety concerns immediately dropped their objections upon hearing that Hermione Granger was the Chairwoman of the Committee. 

Hermione – swotty, Minister of Magic’s pet, “I memorized the entire Employee Handbook for Safety Regulations and Protocol,” – Granger would never let so much as a broken fingernail happen to a student on her watch. Once she was named Chairwoman, the safety concerns became obsolete.

It was quickly decided that it would be too difficult to host the tournament at Hogwarts. Cedric’s loss was still raw and there would be many memorials and remembrances at Hogwarts over the year given the timing of the final Battle. Better to separate the fun, competitive, friendly spirit of the Triwizard Tournament from the more somber, mournful one at Hogwarts.

Durmstrang was never even considered as an option, given its prior Headmaster’s Death Eater affiliations and his subsequent murder by Voldemort’s followers. Hermione was grateful when Durmstrang’s new Headmaster, Alexei Petrov, eased any awkwardness by suggesting Beauxbatons upfront. “I would like to go to France, yes?” he asked at their first meeting, charming the Committee with his lack of pretense. So Beauxbatons it was.

There had been an exorbitant number of international owls, floo calls, and international portkeys. They’d had shorter trips where the Committee let the Beauxbatons representatives wine, dine, and charm them. They had tours of the school, the housing chambers for visiting students and chaperones, and the local villages and cities to visit.

This was the home stretch in their planning. Hermione had pledged herself to the Committee for a full month and to remain on site, putting her other duties on hold or passing them to her support staff. They needed to wrap up the final details and the Committee wanted her in France to do it.

So here she sat. Hermione, in her tight black pencil skirt, an ivory blouse with a soft bow tied at her neck, and a soft periwinkle cardigan over her shoulders. Her curly hair was braided down on one side loosely. She willed herself to concentrate, jotting notes with her quill to try to jar her back into attention.

They were currently narrowing the scope of legalities: arranging the binding magical contracts for entrants, selecting age and qualification requirements, choosing the skills to be tested, finalizing dates, and voting on the final judges. It was all very official and important.

Hermione was becoming increasingly annoyed. The Beauxbatons representatives were seemingly implying that the boys of Hogwarts and Durmstrang were more interested in competing for entry into the Beauxbatons ladies’ knickers than wizarding skills. But other than that, it should have been going swimmingly.

For Hermione, it was a _bloody nightmare_. Her mind was elsewhere. It had been elsewhere since the second she decided to grab a bottle of red wine and follow Draco Malfoy into the glorious abyss.

Thankfully, her mind had such capacity that it could function almost on its own merits. It didn’t hurt that her assistant for this trip took excellent notes. Each evening, she left thinking, _Dear God, I have no idea what we talked about all day!! I hope I didn’t make a complete arse of myself and I protected our agenda. The Minister’s going to sack me._

Each morning, she read over the previous day’s notes over breakfast and was gobsmacked to find that she made great progress and advanced all of their priorities perfectly. How was entirely beyond her. She didn’t even remember speaking!

Stuck in the conference room another infinitely endless day, she squirmed in her seat uncomfortably - trying her hardest to look attentive. This was worse than Binns’ History of Magic lessons. She felt like she’d taken a Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes’ Patented Daydream Charm … except this daydream was personal and it was very, _very_ , specific. It was _all Malfoy, all the time_.

It was Malfoys _lips_ : the way they smirked when they teased her, pouted when she pulled her body away from his, or teased against her neck.

Malfoy’s _eyes_ : the way they stared deeply into hers, wanting to see her as they came together in an explosion of pleasure.

Malfoy’s _hands_ : thrusting his fingers deep into her cunt, grabbing her arse hard, holding her sides as he pumped inside her.

_And there you go again, Hermione. You’ve ruined another perfectly good pair of knickers by fantasizing over a blonde Slytherin snake who isn’t even in this bleeding country!_

She clenched her hands at her sides, squeezing her thighs together. She was so wet, it felt criminal **not** to touch herself, but even _she_ couldn’t hide that in a boardroom. Honestly, she was simply too vocal when touching herself to even try.

Hermione shifted again desperately in her seat as her assistant Charity passed her a note. “You sure you’re okay? Do you need a break?” it said. It was the third note of the day and they hadn’t hit lunch yet.

_Get it together, Granger! You are a strong, smart, intimidating woman! You stood up against Voldemort and destroyed bloody Horcruxes. You obliviated your own goddamn parents for the greater good! You withstood torture from Bellatrix Psycho-Bitch Lestrange._

_You CAN get through this meeting without touching yourself, Hermione. You CAN **STOP THINKING ABOUT DRACO BLOODY MALFOY** and his long … thick … hard … throbbing cock fucking you nice, and deep, and slow …. Oh Merlin’s Beard, kill me. Just kill me, now._


	10. Draco Malfoy: once a PRAT, always a prat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - just catching up on some things!   
> Thanks for the comments - please keep them coming. Lets me know what you like and whether I'm on track. =) Kudos and bookmarks are great too.

_After a fortnight, Draco was admittedly desperate. He felt like a lovesick fool. He was embarrassed and humiliated by how much he cared, but even his embarrassment couldn’t stop him from taking extreme measures. Draco Lucius Malfoy was going to ask for help from Harry “I’m famous for not dying” Potter._

*****

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had instilled in Draco from a young age the importance of a first impression, a first handshake, appropriate greetings and etiquette. Draco never lost his habits, ingrained from childhood. He always looked put together, well-tailored, finessed. But at this point, he did it unthinkingly. It was a seamless process at this point – it didn’t take a long time, it was automatic.

Usually Draco woke up, had a coffee or latte (a habit carried over from his muggle integration classes), and read the Daily Prophet. He threw something on and apparated to the Ministry where he sat on the Board for the Department of PRAT (Potions Regulations, Administration, and Trade).

They’d had a field day with his appointment in the papers:

       _Ministry declares Draco Malfoy official PRAT!_

_Draco Malfoy: once a prat, always a PRAT._

That was the day he sent Rita Skinner a bouquet of flowers – a dungbomb hidden inside each flower.

Today, Draco was _not_ finding his morning routine to be seamless. It felt never ending. He was _dragging_ , avoiding his departure and trying to delaying it until the very last possible second. For today was the day that he would finally cave and go see Harry Potter. If _anyone_ knew where Granger was, it would be Potter.

Draco had spent a few very sleepless nights trying to come up with a plausible excuse for why he needed to contact Hermione. He finally came up with something passible and was going to drop in on Potter first thing. Otherwise, it would haunt him all day.

If Granger was done with him and just having a laugh, then **fine** , but he needed to know. He felt like a bloody Hufflepuff, moping around.

When he got to Potter’s office, there was a very determined secretary out front trying to run interference. She was not deterred by Draco’s first attempt to simply ignore her and brush right past and asked him to state his name, his business, and if he had an appointment. He gave her his best Malfoy “cold as ice” stare and was dumbfounded when the broad actually had the nerve to repeat herself.

_Am I losing my scare factor? I might need to try this in the mirror tonight. I still have the glare down, right? Have I gone soft? Bloody Granger! What have you done to me? Lucius would eat me alive._

“Malfoy – what the hell are you doing here and why the bloody hell are you torturing my secretary?” Harry ruffled his ridiculous hair impatiently, calling out from his desk inside his office.

“I’m not here to talk to her, I’m here to talk to you. Go away!” Draco sneered at the secretary and walked in the office. Draco lowered his voice after he closed the door and spoke just to Harry, “Can you **not** use words like _torture_ about me – some people think I actually did that and still do that, you know? Trying to clear the family name and all that.”

“Thought you liked the fear factor, Malfoy. The Malfoy stare, innit?”

_Brilliant! Still got it!_

“Whatever Potter. Where’s Granger?” Draco was too nervous to do anything other than jump right in.

“What do you want Hermione for?” Harry’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. He and Draco may have gotten to know each other from charity work, but Hermione and Malfoy hadn’t yet crossed paths.

“I tried to owl her and I didn’t get a response. What is her nose stuck too far in a book to answer her owls?” Draco avoided the question.

“If you owl her office, you should get the auto owl reply saying she's out of the country.”

“I didn't owl her office, I owned her personally. I didn’t get a response at all. Where is she and how long is she gone? Why isn’t she responding to owls?”

Harry sighed. He’d gotten to know Draco and trusted him to a certain degree but there were certain things he hadn’t revealed yet.

“You _can’t_ owl Hermione personally.”

Draco’s heart dropped into his stomach. _She blocked owls from me? She didn’t want to hear from me? Well at least I know._

Draco’s mind raced, already trying to think how to cancel the rest of his day. He couldn’t be around people today. He wanted to break something. He realized Potter was still speaking.

“ _No one_ can owl her personally. Well I mean … _some_ people can, but you have to be on an approved list and it’s very small and pre-screened by the Auror Department.”

“What in the devil are you on about?”

“Listen Draco, almost no one knows what I’m telling you so listen up and pay attention. **She doesn’t receive personal owls.**   She's made herself _unplottable_ to personal owls unless your owl is on approved list. She figured it out in Sixth year. It’s very advanced magic – only a few people do it.” Harry explained patiently.

“Why?”

Harry groaned, rolling his neck in aggravation. “You’re smart, Malfoy, no? Where did you rank at Hogwarts?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bollocks. You know. Even if they don’t reveal – you’re competitive enough. You probably broke into the Records Room with Crabbe and Goyle standing guard.”

Draco smirked. Potter’s accuracy really was astounding.

“Fine. I ranked second after Granger every year until I began my junior Death Eater training Sixth year.” Draco had learned not to avoid or hint at his past. It only annoyed people or made them think he was trying to avoid responsibility. Better to acknowledge it head on.

“Right. You’re a smart lad, Malfoy. So don’t be a daft prick.”

“Oi! I don’t – “

 **“You’re asking me WHY _Hermione Jean Granger doesn’t accept personal owls?!?_ Why? Why!?!”** Draco quickly cast a Muffliato around the office as Harry began to yell in earnest.

 **“Because people have been trying to curse her through mail since our Hogwarts days! She got scrolls coated with something to make her skin break out in boils!** Just because she’s friends with me and some crazy lunatic wants to marry me! Candies sent to make bleed from her pores because she’s muggle-born. And those were just the ones she got in Hogwarts! She didn’t even tell us about them until years later. She didn’t want to worry us, she’s so mental.” Harry was furious remembering and his hands shook.

“Not to mention the constant owls calling her Mudblood, threatening to … rape her, to kill her parents, to take her wand from her and ...” Harry’s voice fell soft and broke off.

Draco was stunned silent. He felt like a right git. _You’re sitting here, pouting and moaning because you didn’t get a return owl and she’s getting owls with blood curses and boils. There were people out there threatening to touch her, to hurt her, to …_

Harry reached over into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a scroll and tossed it to Draco casually.

“Listen Malfoy, I’m not talking past tense war time. This stuff still happens. The one I just handed you – it’s a random sampling from this week. I don’t even know which one – just pulled it out of a file.”

Draco’s eyes dropped to the scrolled, his eyes scanning the page with fury as they raced over the vile words … _string you up, cut you open … let your mudblood run dry … taste you …_

Draco jolted out of his chair onto his feet and he realized Potter was still speaking. “What the bloody hell does Granger say about all this? It’s been almost five years since the war. Who are these freaks?!”

“She doesn’t say anything, Draco. She asks us to keep her security clearance elevated, her protection status in place, and she instructs us not to inform her of any imminent threats. She follows security protocol religiously. Even her ministry office mail is pre-screened by a team of Aurors before she can open it. That’s why she does so much by floo or in-person meetings.“

_Well on a lighter note, that decided it. Office owls were out. I’m not about to have half the Ministry laughing over my sweet nothings to Granger._

Draco’s jaw felt tight and he clenched his fists. “What the fuck are you doing about this, Potter?! This is so messed up! You _have to protect her_. You’re the Deputy Head of the bloody Aurors Department! Get off your arse!”

Harry’s jaw fell in shock and he looked at Draco curiously an eyebrow raised. _Since when did Draco Malfoy care so much about Mione’s safety and well being? The way he was responding was almost … possessive? Protective definitely, but less brother-sister and more … caveman. Almost predatory._

“We’re on it, Malfoy. She’s my best friend and practically my sister. Not to mention she’s also the Ministry’s darling, the brightest witch of … all that bollocks. You think there’s a chance we’d let anything happen to her? If there’s a bad threat, she knows she has to stay with me and Ginny and she does so without question.”

What Harry didn’t say is that there’d been some sacrifices that couldn’t be undone. Hermione had decided after the war never to restore her parents’ memories. When it became clear that she’d always be a magnet for psychopaths and threats, she decided she’d rather they enjoy their new life in peace than worry eternally about her in their old one. She’d orphaned herself to save them the strife of parents’ unconditional love.

“Listen, I’m not about to reveal my security procedures to someone without clearance.” Harry paused, trying to determine whether to push. “Why do you care so much anyway, Draco. Are you okay? What did you need Hermione for?” He asked softly.

Draco was caught off guard. Harry’s revelations had left his feelings somewhat bare and he struggled to put his mask back on quickly.

“Nothing, whatever. Doesn’t matter to me. I uh …” Draco struggled to remember his excuse for needing to owl Hermione. “There’s a potion we need to get imported. It’s pretty time sensitive and crucial and I’m having a hard time with the foreign representative. I was hoping she could help ease the way.”

Harry looked at Draco in a way that let Draco know he didn’t buy it for a second. Draco avoided his eyes and shuffled his feet awkwardly for a second.

“How long is she gone for Harry?” he asked. “It’s already been two weeks.”

He was embarrassed and he knew he was revealing himself by admitting he knew how long she’d been gone. Ultimately, he wanted the information more than he wanted to save face.

“The trip is scheduled for a month total. She’ll be gone another fortnight if there are no delays.” Harry answered, looking at Draco questioningly.

“Where did she go?”

“I can’t tell you that. Her travel schedules are restricted. I’m not even authorized to reveal duration actually.”

“What do you think I’m going to do, Potter? Take a hit out on Granger?” Draco sneered at the absurdity.

“Draco – do you want to talk about it? I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s a potions deal. You sucked at potions – except when you cheated with Snape’s book. What good would you do?” Draco wasn’t ready.

“Okay. I get it. Do you want me to message her? We can talk about how to send a message from you directly.”

Draco puzzled it over in his mind. “So she doesn’t allow personal owls for obvious reasons. Her office ones are read by Aurors and she’s on auto reply that she’s out of the country anyway. And she doesn’t return for a fortnight. That it?”

Harry looked at Draco pityingly. “Malfoy – I’m on her approved personal owl list. I can send her a message from you. If it’s personal and you want me not to read it – “

“How personal can potions be, Potter? Don’t you worry your pretty, ruffled head about it. I’ll speak to her junior assistant about it. Thanks for your help.”

And with that, Draco whipped out the office, his robes swinging behind him as the door slammed shut. He wasn’t about to have the entire Auror Department or the other two-thirds of the Golden Trio laughing over his pining over Hermione. He’d just have to suck it up and wait a fortnight. At least he knew one thing: **_she never got his owls._**

Harry ruffled his hair once more. _What in the bloody hell was all that?!? If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Malfoy was head over heels sweet for Hermione. In what universe does that happen?_

Harry paused, running his finger absentmindedly over his lightning scar, deep in thought. Before he could change his mind, he quickly drafted an owl to Hermione.

*****

_Hermione,_

_Draco was here in my office. He seemed desperate to talk to you and was making a piss poor excuse for why. Some nonsense about potions imports._

_I explained the restrictions on your communications and asked if I could send a message to you from him and he said no. I don’t know why I’m writing you really except to say that if Draco bloody Malfoy came to me to ask for help – he must REALLY want to talk to you. Head’s up._

_Hope everything is going well in France. Don’t let any of the Durmstrang lads charm you – we all know how that went last time._

_Dinner as soon as you get back, yeah? Ginny says to bring back those chocolates she likes. Ron says to bring back a girl who looks like Fleur. (I smacked him and called him a git for you)._

_Miss you,_

_Harry_


	11. You're a smart witch, Hermione. Get creative.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in writing everyone! I was trying to decide whether to take the story in a new direction or not. I decided to finish out the story to the end and then potentially write a separate sequel so if there's a big twist people don't like, it won't ruin this story. It can be a standalone sequel.
> 
> So should be moving faster now that I figured that out! Thanks as always for the kudos, comments and bookmarks. =)
> 
> Some sexy scene at the end, be warned.

“Hermione? Hermione … **Hermione!”**

“WHAT?!”

“Eek! Well! I truly apologize, ma’am!” Charity squeaked. Charity never squeaked. She also _never_ called Hermione ma’am – at least not since the very first minute of her very first day.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for rather a long time, you see.”

Hermione sighed and looked up at Charity, becoming despondent as she watched her assistant’s green eyes slowly fill with tears, her long blonde bangs sweeping against her eyelashes.

“Oh bloody hell, Charity, I’m sorry. I’m fit to be tied, but it has absolutely nothing to do with you. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. I just got an owl that … I can’t quite make sense of.”

“Are you okay Hermione? I know I’ve asked, but you seem so out of sorts this week.”

Hermione looked around the café to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard, quickly cast a Muffliato out of an abundance of caution, and ground her teeth together.

She did NOT share personal details with her coworkers … _ever._ **Never Ever.** She was about to break an unbreakable “Hermione Jean Granger Workplace Rule,” but it couldn’t be avoided. At this point, Charity deserved an explanation.

“This is … _delicate_ , Charity. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am, of course.”

“If you call me ma’am again, I _will_ fire you, Charity, so help me Merlin.”

“Yes, ma – Miss Granger, I understand.”

“I don’t speak of personal matters and I likely won’t again. I expect that my trust in you is not misplaced.”

“No, Miss Granger! Absolutely not! I would never betray your confidence on _any_ matter – business or otherwise!”

Hermione sighed again, running her fingers through her thick hair, braiding and unbraiding it absent-mindedly. “Shortly before our trip, I became involved with someone – “

“Ohhhhh, Miss Grang– “

“Charity, if you _swoon_ , or make a scene, or in any way _act a girl_ about this, I will cease speaking **entirely.** Do I make myself clear?”

“Certainly.” Hermione had to hand it to her. In an instant, Charity turned from sappy Cupid into a consummate professional.

“It appears that I let that … _involvement_ … become a distraction to me, for which I apologize greatly. It is incredibly unprofessional to let a personal matter impair my work performance. I regret that you have noticed a change.”

“Your professional performance has been nothing less than exemplary Hermione, _honestly_! You are doing a remarkable job and everything is going right as rain! I only noticed because we work so closely together. I doubt anyone else would have a clue.”

“Nevertheless, I apologize. The timing of our departure left some things unresolved and it has become a bit awkward.”

Charity looked curiously down at the scroll in Hermione’s hand. “And the owl?”

“The owl reminds me that I no idea what I left behind in London. We’re here another fortnight and I feel like I’m going barmy waiting to see what will happen next.”

“Can you talk to him? Or her?” Charity’s eyebrows raised with a question mark.

Hermione laughed at her unanswered question. “ _Him._ I don’t quite know how! The way it happened … it wasn’t exactly clear if we were starting something or not. Now it feels like a fortnight has gone by and maybe it’s just best to simply let it go.”

“Do you **want** to let it go?” Charity asked, kindly.

 _NO!_ Hermione’s inner voice screamed. Her heart clenched tightly in her chest, her fists at her sides.

At the same time, her mind couldn’t even begin to process what **not** letting Draco Malfoy go entailed. Holding onto Draco meant  living life with Malfoy. 

_Could I really be okay being seen with him out in public? Photographed?_ _Having our past dredged up by every bloody newspaper and tabloid?_

_Having to go back to Malfoy Manor - not just for some charity gala once a year but because it’s his family home and he left his Quidditch gear there?_

_Oh Merlin’s Beard, having to tell Ron and ALL OF THE WEASLEYS!! Trying to bring Draco in his designer duds to Sunday Quidditch and brunch at the Burrow … with its one bathroom!_

Hermione shook her head roughly. Whatever the next step was, she wasn’t going to figure it out by the time she finished her croissant and they had a meeting to run.

“Charity – you knew I was off my game. Now you know why. I honestly don’t want to spend another second talking about it. Let’s get back on track, run this Committee the way it should be run, and _get the hell_ out of France. I. Want. To. Go. **Home.** ”

Hermione brushed the croissant crumbs off her dress and stood up. With any luck, she could wrap this all up early and take an early portkey home. She tightened up the scroll from Harry and tucked it in her bag fiercely.

She felt a quick twinge. She had a sudden urge to drop everything and write Draco, but she honestly didn’t even know where she wanted to start or what she would say.

 _Whatever happened next_ , she wanted to be looking into those steely gray eyes when it began.

Charity looked at Hermione as she stood tall and straightened her shoulders, her posture determined and perfect. Charity laughed.

“What?” Hermione asked.

Charity smirked, “Boss Lady is back!”

*****

Boss Lady was back indeed. Although their trip was scheduled for another two weeks, Hermione was a woman on a mission. She was determined to work through their agenda feverishly. She was ruthless - limiting frivolous discussion and breaks and eliminating whatever content she deemed to be unnecessary.

She and Charity started working early in the mornings over breakfast, well before the rest of the Committee arrived, and finished their work well after dinner. Charity fully understood her boss’ drive to return to London and was in full support. They worked long days and Charity found herself crashing into her bed at the end of the day, falling immediately to sleep.

For Hermione, sleep did not come easy. Dreams did. Her desire for Draco grew stronger and he came to her at night.

She awoke in the middle of the night, one hand caressing her nipple, the other rubbing the nub between her thighs. She found herself wet and wanting.

She ran her middle finger between her slick lips, thrusting her hips to create the friction she so desperately needed. But it wasn’t enough.

In the dream she’d just awoken from, Draco had been inside her, his thick cock stretching her deliciously while she clenching around him. As hard as she tried to finish the job with her fingers, it wasn’t going to be enough.

At home, Hermione was better prepared for midnight frustrations. She’d been single on and off long enough to prepare herself. Thankfully, with friends like Luna and Ginny, she knew every discrete sex shop in Europe (magic and Muggle) and had quite the collection of gadgets – for solo use or with partners.

Hermione groaned with frustration. _What the bloody hell are you doing to me, Malfoy! You better be walking around with a hard on the size of Big Ben! I swear, if he’s been shagging every witch in London, I’ll bat bogey hex that glorious cock of his._

 _You’re a smart witch, Hermione. Get creative._  She grabbed her wand from her nightstand and looked around the room. She spotted a vase on the mantle of her fireplace and raised an eyebrow. _Stranger things have happened_.

She summoned the vase to her nonverbally, quickly transfiguring it into her best recollection of Draco’s penis measurements – long, thick, satisfying. She cast warming and vibration charms on it and eagerly ran it down her body, stopping it up against her clit.

Gasping hungrily, Hermione knew it wouldn’t take long. Her dream was too fresh – the memory of his slate eyes lustfully staring into hers, the way his breath came out rushed and frantic, desperate to please her. She held it against her clit until she felt her body begging for more and slowly pushed it inside her, crying out with relief as her pussy stretched around it.

“Oh Merlin, that’s brilliant,” Hermione gasped, feeling the muscles of her cunt clench. It had been too long since their one incredible night and she felt like she was starving for him. She thrust her hips up as her hand worked the cock inside her, hard and rough, her back already arching off the bed.

“Fuck, Draco, I need you so badly.” Hermione felt a trickle of wetness drip between her lips as she got wetter and wetter. Her abdomen clenched, closer to the orgasm she knew would be explosive. She reached one hand up to pinch her nipple and groaned and panted.

And just before she came, she thought of another use for this magic toy she’d created. She envisoned herself sucking Draco’s cock, letting him come in her mouth, while this toy – a magical double of his cock, fucked her from behind. And with that fabulously filthy thought, Hermione came.

In her post orgasmic glow, Hermione had two distinct thoughts.

_The hotel is absolutely not getting this vase back._

_I don’t think I’m getting over this Draco Malfoy fixation anytime soon._

Without a clear pause or reasoning, stuck purely in the fuzzy afterglow, she jotted off a note and sent it with her owl to Draco.

_D,_

_It’s time for me to come home, wouldn’t you reckon?_

_H_


	12. Calling me a bloody zombie!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a short one! But she's BACK!

Hermione arrived home right smack in the middle of Sunday brunch at the Burrow, having managed to cram their remaining two-week agenda into one week. Charity gave her a weary wave goodbye, turning down her offer to join the extended Weasley clan for brunch – she was simply too ready for her own bed.

As Hermione stumbled up into the long drawn out tables set outdoors under a warming charm, she felt like death warmed over. She took her international portkey back and hadn’t even bothered to drop her things at home before coming to the Burrow.

“Who is that? Bloody hell, Mione – is that you?” Ron asked, his eyes squinting in the late morning sun.

“How many other witches do you know with this hair? Of course, it’s me.” Hermione grumbled, annoyed from her travel and lack of sleep.

“You look bloody wretched! You look like you haven’t slept in _weeks_ , Mione. You look worse than when we were in the Forest of Dean!”

“Thanks, Ron.”

“You know the muggle film you took us to see? What was it, Harry?”

“I dunno, Ron.”

“Oh sure you do, mate. The muggle one – all blood and guts and stuff. You look like those creatures who eat everything. Not Inferi but … what were they called, Harry?”

“ _I dunno, Ron_ , quit it. Hi Mione. Welcome back.” Harry handed Hermione a cup of tea.

“Sure you do. The one where they ate all the brains. You look like those blokes – except for the brain eating. What was it, Mione?” Ron persisted.

Ron had missed the eerie silence that had fallen over the rest of the Burrow. Usually it was filled with laughter, clinking of glasses and silverware, _something_ exploding from the joke shop, and the cries of the next generation of Weasley offspring. At the moment, it was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

He’d gone and done it again. He’d passed the point where Hermione was annoyed … to furious … to absolutely silent. And absolutely silent was never good. Absolutely silent was usually where the hexes started flying.

Suddenly Ron seemed to notice that no one was standing anywhere near him.

“Zombieland?” Hermione asked, in almost a whisper. “Is the muggle film you are referencing _Zombieland_?”

Ron shuffled his feet awkwardly and avoided eye contact. “Uh, I can be an arse Mione, you know. And the thing is – I’m pretty sure Fred and George dropped me on my head a lot as a baby – “

Before he could finish, Hermione had whipped out her wand, cast a spell that bound his lips together so he couldn’t speak, and affixed him to a nearby tree, ropes binding his body to it.

“That should about do it. Calling me a bloody zombie. Anybody else got anything to say about my appearance?” Hermione asked.

“You look lovely dear,” Molly said. “A bit peakish, but nothing that a good meal and a nap can’t take care of. They don’t know how to cook right in France. All that cheese and bread. Come sit.”

After an hour, Hermione took pity on Ron and let him down. After two, she let him pull her into his lap and tickle her until she laughed so hard that she couldn’t breathe. After three, she actually cheered for the bloody idiot during the weekly Quidditch match. Love soulmates – they were not. Friend soulmates – she couldn’t find a better one.

After the match ended, she pulled Ginny aside quietly and asked “can I come back to your place? I need help with something.”

Looking around at the many, _many_ open ears around them, Hermione lowered her voice. “And I need you to be quiet about it, you bleeding loudmouth.”

“Well I don’t know, Granger – did you bring me my chocolates?” Ginny winked and smirked at Hermione mischievously.

Her smirk reminded Hermione so much of Draco in that moment that for a second Hermione thought _Ginny and Malfoy – those two could cause some serious trouble. I could see them as thick as thieves._ Hermione took a deep breath and shook her head. _What an insanely bizarre thought._

“Yes I brought your chocolates, you selfish prat. Let’s go.”


	13. Are you planning on keeping him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a long delay. I don't like author's notes where they give excuses about their real lives getting in the way but to give a quick perspective I normally have a corporate visit at my work a few times a year and I just had 7 in three weeks. So apologies for the month delay in updating. Thanks for sticking with it. I love any feedback through comments. Kudos and bookmarks also appreciated of course. Have a great day!
> 
> We're back at it! A chapter today and writing more today as well. Thanks for the patience. Reuniting Draco and Hermione next chapter. =)

Sunday evening, she and Ginny spent several hours in a frenzy trying to find the perfect outfit to “knock Malfoy’s bollocks off” as Ginny so bluntly put it. They used up half the evening shopping, debating outfits, and transfiguring things that they’d just bought hours earlier.

Harry was so gobsmacked by their uncharacteristically “girly” behavior that he finally started interrogating them in full on Auror mode.

“What classroom were we in when you let me put my hand up your shirt for the first time?” he asked Ginny, wand pointed at her steadily.

“Oh Merlin, Harry. You’ve officially gone round the bend. Rita Skeeter’s right about you. You belong in St. Mungo’s.” Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Answer the question, Ginny!”

“Fine! Trick question – we weren’t in a classroom. It was the alcove off the Gryffindor common room, you pervert.”

“Mione, what did I say about my first kiss with Cho?”

“That it was wet - because she was sobbing. Why are all your questions about your sexual exploits, you egomaniac?”

After running Auror diagnostic tests to make sure they weren’t Imperiused or Polyjuiced versions of themselves, Harry was finally satisfied that they were, in fact, _his_ Hermione and Ginny. He was still so flummoxed by their behavior that he demanded an explanation and refused to let them get back to their planning until they acquiesced.

“This has something to do with Malfoy, doesn’t it? I **knew** he was being barmy in my office. I just didn’t know _why_.”

Hermione exchanged an anxious look with Ginny. At Ginny’s quiet nod, she began cautiously.

“I’m going to tell you, but you _can’t go mad_ until you hear me out. And you **can’t** interrupt. And you **can’t** … actually that’s all the rules I have.” Hermione shrugged.

“Wait! And you can’t tell Ron! Until – we say so!” Ginny shrieked quickly. Hermione shot a grateful look at her. That could have been a disaster.

Harry seemed to be thinking things over in his mind, but his curiosity simply needed to be sated. He nodded, indicating she should begin.

“At the gala – at Malfoy Manor …” Hermione dropped off, nervously looking at Ginny. She nodded encouragingly.

_You can do this, Hermione. It’s Harry. He’s loved you and stood by you through everything: Your parents. Your “I Love Ron! I Don’t Love Ron! I bloody **hate** Ron Git Weasley!” phases. _

_He takes you as you are – bossy, insufferable, hater of Quidditch. He will **still** take you as you are. Since you were eleven … til forever._

“Okay. Right. At the gala, I sort of … slept with Malfoy. Well not – _at_ the Manor, actually. We got a bit drunk at the Manor and played Truth or Dare except I wouldn’t do the dares. So truths, really. And then there’s was a bit of – that is – he did some things to me. Good things! Not mean things! It felt nice – I don’t really want to talk about that. Focus, Hermione.

So we left the study and went to his flat, which is so different than you’d think. The interiors are quite nice actually, very modern and – that’s not the point. And he made me breakfast, the muggle way. And he apologized and was so honest, I swear! He really _has_ changed, Harry, you were right. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.

And then there were more nice things – less breakfasty things. More sexytime things. This is … oh bollocks, I’m absolute crap at this. I don’t – Harry you’re like my _bloody brother!_ You get the point. We shagged, okay? Don’t tell anyone. This is so mortifying.”

_Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t make eye contact._

Hermione heard the awkward clearing of Harry’s throat and raised her eyes to meet his. Harry’s green eyes were twinkling with amusement and she could tell he was struggling to hold back his laughter.

“Well that all sounds quite nice, Mione. I’m happy for you.”

Hermione looked at him, dumbfounded at his reaction.

After a moment’s pause, Harry waved his wand and conjured something quietly. Hermione raised an eyebrow questioningly and peered to see what it was. She looked down to see a small water bowl with the name Draco painted on the side.

“What in Merlin’s Beard, Harry?”

“If we’d only known you’d wanted a pet ferret earlier, Hermione, we would have got you one for your birthday last year. Only seems right to get it set up with supplies. Will you be wanting a cage and a litter box for the ferret as well? Are you planning on keeping him?” Harry raised an eyebrow questioningly.

_Smug bastard, Harry._

 “I suppose that really is the question of the day, Harry.”


	14. Getting Grangered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all - thanks for the continued support of the story. As always, I adore comments and kudos and bookmarks, oh my! I caught up with the pre-written parts so writing is going slower, but I'm not abandoning the story, just working at a slower pace.
> 
> This is a very SMUTTY chapter so if you need a warning, there you go.

Monday morning, Hermione awoke before the birds. She was filled with anxiety about her first day back at the Ministry, but it had precious little to do with work.

She had no qualms about strolling back into her Department. She’d handled her assignment for the Triwizard Tournament flawlessly. They’d be thrilled that she had wrapped up the travel early. Now she could jump into another assignment, easing the Department’s workload. The Ministry had always touted Hermione as an example of bureaucracy efficiency and expediency. This trip would be another feather in their cap.

Ministry bosses referenced Hermione’s stellar performance so often when issuing verbal, written, and final warnings to those who failed to meet Ministry standards that employees had begun calling it “getting Grangered” instead of “getting sacked.”  Underperformers detested her; they’d started bumping into her with full cups of tea and coffee in the lunchroom. Hermione had taken to keeping spare shirts in her office in case she got tired of spelling away the mess.

No, on her first day back at work, Hermione’s anxiety was 100% Draco Malfoy related. It didn’t occur to her until **after** she sent that impulsive late night international owl ( _“It’s time for me to come home, wouldn’t you reckon?”_ ), that he had absolutely no way of responding. Her security restrictions made it completely impossible.

So she’d buggered herself. She’d sent a flirty, middle of the night advance to a crafty Slytherin and let it hang there unanswered.

She’d spent more time picking out an outfit than she ever had in her life (even _with_ Ginny’s expert help).

And now, she’d spent half the night awake, butterflies in her stomach, wondering if it was too late to grab a portkey to America and run away from it all.

At half five, Hermione gave up and got out of bed to start getting ready. She had so much nervous energy, she ended up rubbing her clit in the shower, thinking of Draco, just to try to burn off her nerves.

Today’s fantasy du jour featured the two of them in their Hogwarts days. Hermione started with an actual _true_ memory. She remembered a day when she had watched him play Quidditch in those sumptuously edible uniforms. It was late in the year, close to exams, and she was terribly stressed.

She’d had a nightmare of getting all Trolls on her exams and begged to study, but Harry and Ron insisted she needed a _break_ from her rigid routine. They dragged her to the Hufflepuff-Slytherin game as a spectator.

Hermione was furious and barely watching the game until she spotted Malfoy, high above the game, flying through the clouds. His brow was furrowed with concentration, as his eyes scanned the field looking for the Snitch. His lean body was stretched taut against his broom, muscles tight and straining.

For a moment, Hermione was completely distracted from exams and noticed – _bloody hell, Malfoy was hot!_

Hermione’s fantasy picked up with her visiting him in the showers after the game to congratulate him on a win with his spectacular dive to catch the Snitch. She knelt before him in the showers, taking his cock in her mouth under the stream of the water.

She envisioned him turning her around, pressing her tits firmly against the tile, hard nipples crushed against the cold. He slapped her arse hard, pulling its roundness back towards him, spreading her legs open wider as he did. His pale firm chest pressed against her back, his mouth pressing up to her ear.

“You love this, don’t you, you dirty girl? Perfect little Granger. Teacher’s pet. Little know it all." He sneered. "But you fooled them all, didn’t you, Granger?”

Hermione rubbed her clit in the shower, her other hand gripping her nipple hard as the water ran over her. She pictured him running his hard cock between her arse cheeks.

“Because this is what you really wanted all along, isn’t it, Granger? A hard cock splitting you in two? Pounding into you? Making you mine?”

Hermione panted as he squeezed her round globes, smacking her left cheek again. “Tell me you want it, Granger. Just beg me, and you can have it.”

“Sod off, Malfoy. You know you want it, too. Like you haven’t wanked thinking about this?” She turned her head over her shoulder, winking as she spread her legs a little wider. “Tell me about your dreams, Malfoy. Haven’t you thought about this tight pussy?”

Malfoy groaned as he turned her around, crushing his lips to hers. He ran his fingers down her spine, pressing her tightly to his chiseled abdomen.

“Fuck yes. You feel better than I imagined.” He slipped his tongue into her mouth forcefully, lifting her up, supporting her weight.

“I can’t wait, Draco. I need you inside me. There’s so much I want to do to you – later. But now, I just need your cock inside me.”

“Promise me.” He panted into the side of her neck as he bit down gently.

“Promise what?”

“Promise me later? Promise me that you’ll let me do more later. I want to taste you everywhere. I want to finger that cunt. I want to –“

“All of it, Malfoy, I swear – but I need you-“

He thrust into her hard and fast and they both groaned loudly as they joined together blissfully. Hermione yanked at the back of his white hair, pulling her hips up and slamming back down onto him. He was so big and the stretch burned so good.

She was petite enough that he could lift her with ease but her breasts bounced perfectly as moved against each other. Draco felt his balls growing tight and couldn’t believe it. _Bloody hell – what is this witch doing to me that I feel like I could blow four thrusts in?_

“Pull my hair, Draco! Fuck!”

Surprised, he raised an eyebrow, his gray eyes darkening with lust. He did what she asked, with a firm yank on her out of control tresses. He instantly felt her grow wetter around his cock and her pussy clenched on him tightly.

“Bloody hell, Granger. You really _are_ a dirty girl, aren’t you?”

“Sod off, Malfoy. Don’t stop.”

He kept his hand entwined in her hair so every time he thrust up into her, he pulled her down with his hand on her hair. Her eyes began rolling back and her moans became more frantic and he knew she was getting close.

“Malfoy, fuck – I’m going to come. I want to feel you come in me.”

“Oh shit, bollocks, hold on – “ Draco tried to stop himself from coming, realizing he hadn’t done the Contraceptive Spell.

“I did the spell before I came in here. Come for me, Malfoy." Hermione begged. "You know you want to come in me. What would big bad Lucius say about you spilling your Pureblood cock inside this dirty Mudblood?” Hermione whispered in his ear, biting gently on his earlobe.

And with that, fantasy Draco, fantasy Hermione, and real life Hermione exploded in ecstasy.

As Hermione washed her sticky fingers off in the shower and tried to rationalize her _very filthy_ fantasy mind with her more romantic real life feelings for Draco, she had one thought: _this is going to be a exceptionally overwhelming day._


	15. Now go get your man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short one, but needed to have some fun with Harry and Ginny! We haven't seen them in a bit! ;)
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos as always - keep 'em coming!

Hermione fidgeted in front of her floo, fixing her clothes for what must have been the tenth time. She raced to her hallway mirror, checking her hair again and frowning at her ruffled reflection.

_Why the bloody hell do I bother? It has a mind of its own on days when I’m anxious! I **swear** it gets bigger the more nervous I am. _

She’d woken up nervous to begin with, but after her exceptionally saucy shower, she was downright panic stricken. She’d spent exactly 21 days _craving_ Draco Malfoy, _desiring_ him, _trying_ to deny him. It was like a diabetic trying to quit chocolate.

And now, on day 22, she had planned to arise calm, collected, cool … her outfit pre-planned with Ginny.

 She had **planned** to breeze into the Ministry, _casually_ bump into Draco in the halls, flirt and reconnect.

_But no! No, Hermione! You couldn’t do that, could you! You couldn’t control yourself! You had to wake up and have the filthiest, dirtiest, raunchiest shower sex with yourself imaginable. And now … even if you **do** casually bump into Draco, you’ll be too mortified by the memory to even look him in the eye!_

Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth, her stress-tell showing.

_I need a pep talk. Get it together, Granger!_

Hermione stuck her head in the floo and called the Potter residence, praying she wasn’t too late to catch Harry. “Harry! Ginny!” she screeched, loudly.

“Mione?” Harry’s head popped into the fireplace questioningly. “Are you alright? This is late for you to not be at work.” His green eyes dropped knowingly to her bottom lip. “What’s the matter? Why have you been biting your lip?”

“Harry – I – I’m just – ughhhh.” Hermione groaned as she popped through the floo into their house.

“Spit it out, Granger. I was trying to talk Harry into a quickie before his meeting!” Ginny yelled from the other room.

Harry blushed red instantly, pulling at the collar of his robes and not meeting eye contact.

“Oh. Gross. I mean … well, yeah, gross.” Hermione said.

“What did you need, Hermione?” Harry asked, the concerned look back on his face. He was nothing if not her most tolerant friend. While loyal, the Weasleys were not known for their patience.

“You said you talked to Draco – I mean, Malfoy – I mean, Draco. Right?”

“Yes. He came and saw me at my office.”

“Well … did it seem like he … I’m going to try to see him today and I just – it’s been so long.” Hermione stammered, her hands pulling at the sides of her clothes.

“What are you worried about, Hermione? You can talk to me. Even if it’s hard. I meant it when I said I wouldn’t tell Ron anything. You know that. We’ve had secrets before.”

“I know. I trust you. I just – I feel like I’m going in blind. When you talked to him, did it feel like it was _casual_ to him?” Hermione paused awkwardly, fidgeting on her feet. “ _We don’t talk **sex** things, Harry, you and I – “_ Hermione whispered.

“Well, Merlin’s Beard, Mione! Maybe it’s about time we did. We’re old enough for Circe’s sake!” Harry’s annoyance grew as he ruffled his hair.

“What did I do, Harry? I’m sorry!”

“I have a **naked wife** waiting for a quickie in the other room, Mione, and I’d quite like to **_shag her_** before I go to the most _boring_ meeting in the _history_ of meetings!” Harry shouted.

“Yeah – hurry up, Hermione! I’m horny as fuck!” Ginny yelled from the other room.

After a long pause, all three of them erupted in laughter until they struggled to catch their breath.

“Okay, okay! All I want to know is – did it seem like was only interested in sex or more? And then I’ll go!” Hermione shrieked, still out of breath.

Harry’s face calmed and he looked at her softly, with a face bordering on pity.

“Hermione … he seemed like was interested in a lot more than sex.” Harry said soberly.

“Really?” Hermione’s brown eyes lit up eagerly.

“He seemed like he was head over heels in love with you if I’m being completely honest. Be careful there. I think he’s in deep.” Harry could tell the gears in Hermione’s head were working overtime on that one.

“Hey, Mione?” Harry’s eyes softened.

“Yeah?”

“You look really pretty today.”

Hermione looked down at the flirty floral skirt (a little shorter than she’d ever worn to work previously), the lavender blouse, and the kitten heels that Ginny had helped her pick out. “Really?”

“Yes. Now get the hell out of my house and let me shag my wife.”

“We are _so done_ talking about sex now, deal?”

“Deal. Now go get your man.” Harry winked at Hermione.

“Better make it good, Ginny! I hear he’s got an awful meeting.” Hermione winked back.

“I reckon it’s worse than Binns’ History of Magic, Gin, so you better do that trick with your tongue to make sure I’m _really_ happy before I go.” Harry said as he turned the corner.

 “I’m pretending I didn’t hear that,” Hermione groaned, as she hopped into the floo yelling “Ministry of Magic.”

 


	16. Look before you hex, Granger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter isn't QUITE finished, but I've been so delayed in posting that I figured an abruptly ending chapter was better than no chapter at all! An a little suspense never hurt anybody. ;)
> 
> As requested, Granger and Malfoy meet back up! Thanks for the feedback - you were right. The delay had gone on too long. 
> 
> As always, thanks for the comments, kudos, and encouragement to keep writing. It's my first writing of ANYTHING so it helps me to keep going. Happy reading!

From the minute Draco got Hermione’s owl in the middle of the night, he’d done everything in his power to find out whatever he could about her arrival back at the Ministry. Draco used every Slytherin trick in his book. He’d schemed, bribed, connived.

 _And Draco was **good.** _  They didn’t call him the Slytherin Prince for nothing. Salazar himself would have been proud of the amount of information he’d uncovered in so little time.

He’d already discovered that Hermione had returned the previous day, had brunch at the Burrow, and ( _uncharacteristically for her_ ) gone clothes shopping in both Diagon Alley and Muggle London.  Not only did he know _where_ she’d gone – he knew _who_ she was with (the Weaslette) and _what_ she bought.

He had the salespeople on commission for his own events and they were only too happy to gossip about Granger’s purchases to their best client. Draco’s mind wandered happily as he envisioned the rosy lace undergarments one saleswoman had pointed out.

 _Blimey, she’d look edible in those. It was worth spending yesterday tracking her down just to get a glimpse of those._ Draco quickly realized what he was thinking and where he was.  _Bloody hell, I sound like a bit of a stalker come to think of it. I imagine that’d sound a little bit pervy ... there aren’t Legimens working in the Ministry, are there?_

Now, he stood apprehensively in the Ministry of Magic wondering **where the bloody hell Granger was!?** and trying his best not to fidget. _Malfoys. Do. Not. Fidget._

All of his intel indicated that she typically arrived _hours_ before most employees, but she still hadn’t arrived and the entryway was buzzing with the morning rush. Draco would have worried that he’d missed her except that he’d bribed the Auror on her Security Detail to tip him off when she arrived.

He’d _tried_ to bribe the Auror to tell him when she left her flat, but he said it was a “serious breach of security protocol and would put Miss. Granger’s safety at risk.” Apparently, her safety was assumedly more secure within the Ministry building itself.

Draco reminded himself to have the idiot fired when it was all over. _Bloody git – taking bribes! I could be a blimey psychotic stalker!_ Thinking over his behavior over the last few days, Draco almost blushed crimson. _Malfoys. Do. Not. Blush._

It took everything in his power to relax back into his typical, leaned back, stance – draping himself against the side of a counter as a secretary from the Minister’s office tried desperately to catch his attention. Draco half-heartedly responded to her banter with one eye on the lifts, waiting for his signal. Finally, an inter-office memo hovered over Draco and he plucked it out of the air.

_Otter Has Landed._

Draco scoffed. It was well known from the War that Hermione’s Patronus was an otter. Hard to break code, this was not. He brushed off the desperate secretary and moved his way towards the lifts.

There was a brief break in the crowds and he saw her. She was flushed and nervous; he could sense her anxiety a mile away. Her eyes scanned the area as if she was searching for someone. When they finally landed on his, her whiskey colored eyes seemed to grow three times as big – wide eyed with shock.

Draco was close enough to make it into the same lift as her if he moved quickly. He was determined and moved as he always did, with a sense of purpose. Like usual, the crowds seemed to part as people made way for him. The War may have ended, but people still made way for the Malfoys.

Malfoys. Do. Not. Wait.

As soon as he slipped into the lift beside her, he groaned silently. He’d been so captivated by that sweet whiskey gaze that he’d completely missed the obvious glaring downside standing next to her – Ron “Prat” Weasley was guiding her into the lift, arm in arm, like two peas in a bloody pod.

The infamous three stepped into the lift and the rest of the crowd waited, seemingly feeling the tension. There were 5 seconds of pure silence where Ron’s mouth simply sputtered open and closed. Draco thought of the fish Muggles were so fond of catching with rods and smirked.

“Hi Mal- Dra- “ Hermione stuttered awkwardly. She froze, looking mortified and blushing, then stared at the floor. Ron stared at her, like he was about to send her to a mediwitch for checking.

“Hi Hermione.” Draco smirked again. _Oh this is just **too good.** It’s almost **better** with Weasley here. Let him watch!_

“Oi! Who you calling **Hermione**?! She’s Granger to you!” Ron finally got his voice back.

“We’re all _adults_ , here, Ronald and school is over. He can call me Hermione.” The glare she sent was legendary and Draco thanked his lucky stars that he wasn’t on the receiving end of it.

“But I don’t like it! And **I’m** taking care of this, Mione, okay?”

 _Wrong answer! Oh, Ron, Ron. When will you ever learn?_ Draco’s smirk was now a full-blown smile.

“I do not need YOU of all people to RUSH IN and save me from _MALFOY of all people, Ronald._ I can bloody well take care of myself.”

“Not scared of Malfoy, are you? Right. He couldn’t even get his wand up against you, could he?” Ron snickered.

“Oh, I bet I could **_get my wand up_** _for Granger_ , if you know what I mean.” Draco looked Hermione over, starting at her freshly painted toes, up to her short skirt, ending at her rosy lips. He gave her a long, slow, seductive smile. “Yeah, I think I could get my wand up just fine. _Real up._ ”

Hermione tried to hold back a laugh, snickering, as she threw a protego charm up between Draco and Ron quickly. Ron had already drawn his wand, predictably.

“Down. Boys.” She cast another quick spell to freeze them each in sitting position as the lift landed on her floor. “This is my floor and I’m getting off. When you calm down enough to act like the adults I know you are, the spell will wear off and you can go. Goodbye **Draco.** ”

“Goodbye **Hermione.** ” He said her name pointedly, smirking at her with an unspoken question. _Are you mad?_ She winked back. _Not at you._

“Goodbye Ronald. Behave.” And with that, she flounced off the elevator in her saucy little skirt.

*********

It had been a crazy first day back at work and by the time lunch was over, Hermione had honestly considered announcing that she’d made a grave mistake! She’d forgotten a crucial element of planning the Triwizard Tournament! She _simply must_ go back to France immediately.

But then … then she remembered Draco’s face when it saw hers at the lifts. He looked like Harry the first time he got a Weasley sweater on Christmas – just pure unadulterated joy. Childlike and unfiltered. _So very UNMalfoy._

And his smirk in the lift as he ribbed Ron … as he teased her. She felt red creep across her chest again as she grew flushed. It was unbelievably, truly. One look from that man could cause lust in her that others couldn’t draw forth in months of dating. _And in a lift, for Circe’s Sake! With Ron IN IT!_  

When he’d looked her up and down, she’d felt like her carefully chosen clothes were invisible – like he could see right through them and craved what he saw. She felt like her clothes were ready to melt off her body at his next casually thrown smirk. _God, I want him. Even after all this time, I want him so badly._

It had been an **excruciating** morning at work. She was thrown into an all department meeting where they attempted to catch her up on everything she’d missed while she’d been gone. Then, Harry and Ginny had insisted on taking her to lunch to celebrate her return. Ron was supposed to come too, but as he was still fuming over Draco, he was stuck in the lift.

Ministry Maintenance had tried to move him, to no avail, and all they could get him to say was “Hermione.” When approached for help, all Hermione would say was “when he stops being a stubborn mule, it’ll wear off.” So they left him in the lift and went about their other tasks, knowing better than to mess with a Hermione Granger hex.

She’d hoped lunch would be somewhere quiet where the three of them could catch up, but it ended up being a blow out affair in Diagon Alley. Seamus and Dean had finally come out of the “Wizarding Cupboard” as it were, and moved in together as a couple. Since Hermione had missed their housewarming party at their flat while abroad, they joined lunch. Since it was in Diagon Alley, it seemed that the _entire_ staff of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes came too. By the end, about half of their year from Hogwarts seemed to have joined. But not Draco. Of course, not Draco.

Hermione sighed as she walked back to her office. She craved him desperately, but how to seek him out? Her owl from abroad now seemed so brazen … so tart! Now in the bright lights of the Ministry, with secretaries and memos and business buzzing about, she didn’t know where to begin again.

Hermione walked into her inner office and came to a sudden halt. The hairs on her arms stood up. Something was awry with her wards. She drew her wand slowly.

“Look before you hex, Granger. You might damage a part you like.” Draco drawled.

“How did you break my wards?! Did anyone see you come in here? What are you thinking?!”

“Take a breath, Hermione, will you?”

“Seriously, how did you break my wards?”

“Are you kidding? I lived with Voldemort.” He sounded almost bored.

“Right. Well … right.” Hermione studied him carefully. Even now, after breaking and entering into her _formerly_ extremely secure office, he looked entirely at ease. His long, lean frame stretched angularly against her window frame, the light from outside reflecting against his golden hair.

“Relax, Granger. No one saw me come in here. Your pristine reputation is intact.”

Hermione frowned, irritated by his tone. _What is that supposed to mean? Does he think I’d be embarrassed of him? Or that I think I’m too good for him?_ She bristled at the thought.

“Come here.” His voice remained calm, smooth, in control. _How does he **do that?** I’m a ball of nerves and he’s like ice! _

Hermione didn’t even consider refusing. She went to him immediately. He met her partway at her desk and stopped her there. He ran his fingertips down her arm, trailing a line past her wrist and onto her leg. As his fingertips reached her upper thigh, she shivered involuntarily.

“I _like_ this little skirt.”

“Thank you.” Draco smirked. _Granger – always with the manners. Couldn’t stop herself if she tried._

He ran his fingers up to the waistband of her skirt where it met her blouse, running his fingers along the underside of her stomach gently as she began to breathe heavier.

“And I like this _sweet_ little blouse.”

“Thank you.”

He dropped his hand to the hem of her skirt and ran his hands under the back, cupping her arse. He felt the lace of her panties under her hands and glanced down to see rosy lace. _The saleswoman remembered correctly._

“And I absolutely adore these delicious little lace knickers.” He whispered into her ear as he began to kiss her neck gently. Hermione moaned, digging her nails into his back. “Did you wear them for me?”

“Yes.”

“What a sweet girl you are. You deserve a reward, don’t you think?”

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and Hermione jolted back into reality in an instant.

“Bloody hell, Draco, we’re at work! This is _absolutely unacceptable_. You have to **leave!** Or hide. Definitely hide! Or leave.” Hermione panicked as a second knock rung out. Draco cocked an eyebrow smugly, clearly enjoying his effect on her.

“Just sit in your desk, Granger. I’ll take care of it so you don’t even know I’m here.”

“Miss Granger? It’s your 1 o’clock meeting. Are you quite ready?”

Hermione looked around with a start and was stunned to find … no Draco Malfoy whatsoever. Flabbergasted, she sat in her desk and answered her assistant, all the while trying to discover how Draco had either left or disillusioned himself so well that she could not see him.

“Very well, show them in.”

The meeting was mind-numbing at best and Hermione found herself struggling to stay alert and focused. Thankfully, Charity was piping in with regular questions at appropriate intervals. Hermione’s mind was elsewhere – in the midst of imaging what would have happened had she and Draco not been interrupted.

Hermione was worried her imagination had gotten away with her when she thought she felt a strumming between her thighs. She looked down briefly and had to stop herself from gasping aloud. There, beneath her desk, was a disillusioned Draco Malfoy staring hungrily between her thighs. He looked up, winked, and nestled forward.

_Oh Merlin’s Beard! He truly is going to be the death of me._


	17. The Wizarding World is Going to Go Absolutely Mental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all - this will be the last official chapter of the story. Thanks for sticking with it! As always, comments and kudos are so appreciated.
> 
> It felt like it was at a good place to have them reunite and wrap it up. I think I will potentially write some one shots or off-shoots of this going forward, but it didn't feel like it needed to be part of a big multichaptered event. 
> 
> I may still write an epilogue if people want sort of flash forwarding into what their lives together look like. Let me know if that's something you're interested in and I'll do that?

_Hermione was worried her imagination had gotten away with her when she thought she felt a strumming between her thighs. She looked down briefly and had to stop herself from gasping aloud. There, beneath her desk, was a disillusioned Draco Malfoy staring hungrily between her thighs. He looked up, winked, and nestled forward._

_Oh Merlin’s Beard! He truly is going to be the death of me._

_****_

Hermione felt Draco’s firm hands grasping her knees, parting them wide under her desk. He ran his pale hands up her thighs to the underside of her arse, teasing as he went. Hermione’s mind worked fast and feverishly and she acted without a moment’s hesitation.

She sent a Stunning Hex to his chest.

Draco felt to the floor with an audible thump.

“Miss Granger, are you quite alright?”

“I apologize ladies and gentlemen, but I will need to draw the meeting to a close. Charity will contact your offices to reschedule.”

Several members attending began to scoff and huff and Hermione narrowed her eyes, sent them her infamous glare, and continued, “Exit my offices immediately. I believe there may have been a security breach and have no time to waste with your nonsensical objections.”

Upon hearing her tone, they moved faster than the Snitch at the Quidditch World Cup.

Ever loyal Charity remained behind, wand raised and ready. “Shall I call the Aurors, Hermione?”

Hermione sighed, glancing under her desk to ensure Draco was still out. She cocked an eyebrow, then sent an Incarcerous spell at Draco to keep him bound in case he came to. The Malfoy tempers were well-known. Considering he was in the “giving” mood when he crawled under her desk, he likely wouldn’t be too pleased with the outcome.

“Just get Harry, Charity, thank you. Tell him I’m safe, but it’s urgent and it’s his eyes and ears only.”

Charity nodded, moving with her normal efficiency and haste. Hermione decided to levitate Draco into a chair on the opposite side of the room to at least make his body comfortable. No use hiding him now once the office had been sealed.

When Harry entered, he had that look Hermione was used to seeing on the battlefield. He was tense, serious, and alert. Ready for action, wand tight in hand. His eyes scanned the room quickly, stopping briefly – stunned – on Draco, before continuing to ensure they were otherwise alone.

“Why is Draco bound, Mione? Did he try to hurt you?”

“NO I didn’t try to hurt her, I tried to bloody go down on her! Is an orgasm a crime now?” Draco groaned, trying to stretch his arms.

“Oh good, you’re back awake.” Hermione smiled.

“Are you barking mad? Did you seriously stun me? And bind me? For trying to make you feel _good?_ Potter – your friend has an anger management problem. She should really see a healer.”

“Harry. Draco and I need some time to talk. Alone.”

“You aren’t kidding, Granger. Merlin’s beard.” Draco glared at her across the room.

“Are you able to keep the area around my office clear? I told the others I had a security breach and needed to check my wards. But we could use some space and time.”

“Yeah, Mione, sure. I can trigger the security protocols for outer office lockdown. It will clear the outer office and hallways. But are you really sure I should leave you two alone?” Harry looked dubious. Draco was furiously pulling at his spellbound ropes, grinding his teeth, and glaring at Hermione. Hermione was calmly tapping her wand against her thigh.

“Oh, like you and Ginny haven’t ever had a wizard’s duel, Harry. We’ll be just fine.” Hermione shot a glance at Draco’s steely eyes and then worried her lip between her teeth. “On second thought, if an we’re not out in an hour, can you come back and check on us?”

“Knock first, Potter, eh?” Draco said, gritting his teeth. “We could be working this out in other ways.”

“ _And **that’s** my cue to leave!_ Best of luck to the both of you.” Harry shook his eye, as if trying to get that image out. “I’m locking up behind me, Mione, but best reinforce.” She nodded, never taking her eyes off Draco.

She walked towards him, her skirt swaying. “If I let you free, will you stay in your chair and not touch me.”

“You’ve got to be fucking daft. Of course not.” Draco sneered.

“Well then. Seems like we’re going to have a nice little chat with you all twisty tied.”

“What in the bloody hell is **wrong** with you? Have you suddenly stopped enjoying orgasms? Last I remember, you couldn’t get enough of my tongue inside you.” Draco winked. Hermione shivered, his words causing her to tighten her core.

“I can’t, Draco.”

“Can’t what?”

“I can’t do _that_ with you. I can’t do **any** _of that_ with you.”

Draco suddenly became very still and stopped pulling at his bindings.

_Shit. **Shit. Shit.** SHIT **.** Why did I push her?! Bollocks._

“Okay. I get it. It was a one-off and I messed it up. I should have stayed away, yeah?”

“No, it’s – “

“So if it’s over, can I go now, yeah? My arms are bloody killing me like this.”

“Draco, listen to me – “

“I’ll leave you alone, I swear. I get it. I won’t owl you – “ _Wait a minute. Owl. Why did she bloody owl me if she wanted it to be over?_

_“Slow down, you insufferable prat! I’m trying to talk to you!”_

“You are?”

“Yes! That’s the whole problem! That’s why I didn’t let you go down on me. Well **that** and the fact that I had the American Minister of Magic in my bloody office!”

“Merlin’s beard, you did?”

“Yes, you pervert. And I didn’t particularly want him to _see, smell, or witness_ my orgasm, thank you very much.”

“Right then.” Draco’s eyes were wide as saucers and Hermione couldn’t help cracking up laughing.

“Of _course_ I want you to do that to me. You’re bloody fantastic at it! Seriously – you should start a bleeding consulting firm for how to please women orally. And if your ego starts to inflate _for ONE second, I will take that compliment BACK!”_

“Understood, Deputy Director, Ma’am.”                                                                                                    

“I want it, Draco. I want it and I want you - but I can’t until I figure out what this is. Because I know we only had one night together and I know it would be insane to expect it to be more that that … but I am feeling more than that.” Hermione stared at the ground, embarrassed. “I just felt like it would be unfair to be involved with you physically and not let you know. I know how you are, Draco.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on.”

“Can you release me, please. I’m uncomfortable and I want to talk to you. I promise I won’t do anything to make you regret letting me go.” Hermione nodded and when he was released, he came closer hesitantly, sitting on the edge of her desk.

She struggled to make eye contact, so she spoke to him while staring at the carpet.

“I know your reputation, Draco. And if I didn’t before – I certainly do now after playing Truth or Drink with you. You don’t do relationships, Malfoy. You do great, explosive, casual sex. And we did that. And it was _amazing_. I’m so grateful for it, honestly, Draco. I wouldn’t take it back. I don’t regret it … but I don’t think it’s smart for me to go further.”

“Why not?”

Hermione sighed, rubbing her fingers through her troublesome hair. “Because I don’t feel _nothing_.”

“I don’t feel nothing. I feel everything.” Hermione’s eyes took him in cautiously, skeptically. “You know what I did for the first two weeks you were gone? Other than stalk you, pretty aggressively?”

Hermione stifled a laugh and shrugged, feeling more vulnerable than she cared to admit.

“Nothing. I didn’t sleep. I went through the motions at work, but it was all such crap I had to have my underlings re-do everything. I skipped meals because I was so anxious wondering where you had gone off to, when you’d be back, who you were with. Merlin forbid if you’d met someone else there! I did nothing.”

“Seriously, _nothing_? I can’t imagine the **great** Draco Malfoy doing _nothing.”_ Hermione teased.

“Well, I wanked a lot.” He laughed, his somber face suddenly lighting up. “No honestly, I wish I was joking, but I did. I couldn’t stop thinking about our night together and what I wanted to do when we were together again. I was like a Third Year with a first crush. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

He reached around the desk, pulling her face close, “I still can’t, Hermione. I think I’ve been waiting for you our whole lives. You’re the only one who has ever put me in my place. If I’m lucky enough to have a chance with you now – starting from a one off or not – I’m not going to blow it.”

“But a _relationship?_ ” Hermione raised her yes, doubtfully.

“I want all of you for as long as you’ll allow me to be in your presence. I want early mornings with your awful hair – even though it is _truly a death threat in the mornings_. I want dinners with your obnoxious Gryffindor friends. I want sneaky snogs in the lift on the way to work. And yes, I want to shag you rotten. What do you want?”

“I want it all too, but I’m scared!” Hermione shrieked.

“What could you possibly be scared _of?”_ Draco rolled his eyes.

“I’m scared I’ll hex any witch who hints at taking a ride on the Malfoy Express!” Draco guffawed, holding his stomach.

“So hex away! After you hex the first few, they’ll learn to shut up! They don’t mean anything to me, Hermione. You’re the only one who mattered.”

“I’m scared I’ll never be totally comfortable in the Manor or with your mother because of what happened in the War.”

“I’m not either – the War was hard on all of us. We keep living.”

“I’m scared you’ll get tired of me and all my baggage.”

“What _baggage_ , love?”

“I’m an insufferable know-it-all, bossy, hot tempered. I get jealous. I’m career focused and I don’t like being told what to do. I have nightmares and I lost my family. So I come with my wizarding family – the Weasleys, Luna, Neville. They come with me.”

“You’re smart, driven, passionate, hardworking, and it’s sexy as hell. I have nightmares too and you’re lucky to have any family at all. It’s not baggage – it’s a blessing.”

Hermione sighed and stared at him gratefully. She climbed into him lap and snuggled her head into the crook of his neck.

“Are we really going to do this?”

“Yes.”

“Are you certain it’s a good idea?”

“Yes.”

“The Wizarding World is going to go absolutely mental.”

“Yes.” Draco laughed. “Honestly, the Muggle world probably would too if they had any idea who I was.”

“But we’re doing it anyway?”

“Yes. And it will be wonderful.”

“Okay.”

“Okay … but Hermione?”

“Yes?”

“If George Weasley puts another hand on your bare back, I will hex the living daylights out of him. I’m calling a foul on any more Weasleys getting intimate with my Granger.”

“Oh I’m yours now, am I?”

“Always.”

 


	18. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Readers requested an epilogue - with smut! And ... it is ... SMUTTY. Beware.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader feedback was OVERWHELMING after the close of the story. Thank you so much. Most people really seemed to want an epilogue with a bit more smut - so here you go!
> 
> Hope you enjoy. Thanks for all the support of my first fanfic. Always loved seeing the kudos and comments.

Epilogue: Three weeks later

“Don’t you dare tease me, Draco.” Hermione was on her hands and knees, rocking back, her arse pressing against his cock.

“You like it when I tease.”

She shook her head and leaned back, sitting up against him. Threading her fingers through his pale locks, she pulled hard.

“Not today, Malfoy. I’m serious. It’s been too damn long and I need you. Stop messing about and shag me already.”

“Listen, princess, **you’re** the one who wanted to keep this _private and undercover_. **I** wanted to publish our relationship in the Daily Prophet on bloody Day 1.”

“Sod off.” Hermione grabbed his hands, pulling them her nipples forcefully. “Stop talking and pinch!”

“I’m just saying, bossy lady, it’s a lot bleeding easier to fuck freely when we aren’t hiding all the time.” Draco rolled her nipples between his fingers harshly, feeling them harden under his touch.

“It’s been three weeks, Draco, give me a break. There’s certain people I need to tell first.”

“Hermione, for Merlin’s sake, if you say the name Ronald Weasley right now, I swear my cock will _shrivel and die_ and we will **never fuck again.** My cock is **allergic** to that name.” Draco gave her a quick spank on her ass for good measure.

Hermione rolled her eyes and quickly flipped them both over.

“Something tells me I can get you working again just fine.” She quickly crawled down his body and took him into her mouth.

 _Gods, I can never get enough of him._ No matter how many times she had him, she couldn’t believe how much she craved him. He was so long, so thick, so ready for her. He made her feel so desired, so wanted. They’d only been official for a few weeks but she already felt so committed, so sure.

As Hermione took him deeper, Draco fisted her hair in his hands. He’d learned after the first few go rounds not to be too careful with her. They’d had sweet, slow, lovely sex too, sure. But Hermione was no delicate flower and when he took her like this – raw, passionate, rough – she got even wetter.

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione, your mouth is so fucking hot. Suck me. That’s it, baby. You’re such a good girl.”

Draco rubbed the top of her head as bobbed on his sizable dick and Hermione honestly wondered for a second if there was something wrong with her.

_Am I mental to get so turned on by being told I’m a good girl? I swear, the more he praises me like I’m a pet, the more filthy things I want to do to him._

“Come on, love, show me how deep you can take me. That’s a sweet girl.” Hermione relaxed her throat and went as deep as she could, wrapping her hand around the base of him. She slid one hand around the back, squeezing his ass, and starting to slip a finger between his cheeks.

“Oh no you don’t, you dirty bird. You put a finger up my arse, I’m going to cum and I want to finish in that tight pussy of yours.”

Hermione pouted, still lazily licking his cock. “But I want to taste you. I’ll swallow and make you all clean.”

_Holy fuck, she’s going to kill me. That innocent look with those naughty words? I can’t get enough of her._

“I know you would, Mione, but I don’t want to wait to have you again. It’s been too long. When you stop hiding me and I can have you whenever I want, the rules will change.” Draco loved guilt tripping her.

He was dying to go public. He knew the backlash would be fierce, but he didn’t care – he wanted the whole world to know that Hermione bloody Granger chose his sorry arse.  He wanted to shout it from the rooftops. It was taking every ounce of self-control he possessed not to put an advertisement in the Prophet himself announcing their relationship.

But ultimately, he still felt like he’d won the bloody lottery getting Hermione to pick him. He wasn’t about to ruin it by pressuring her to face the Rita Skeeters, the Lavender Browns, and the rest of the bitchy witches and gossiping hoards.

“Back on your hands and knees, now. I want to see that arse while I take you.” She hurried to get into position and Draco took her without a moment’s pause, slamming home.

He pushed her shoulders down into the bed, forcing her tight ass up, thrusting into her hard as she cried.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh god.” Draco pounded harder, hand slapping her ass as she cried out louder. He ran his hands over the round apples of her behind, obsessed with them. Hermione panted, feeling every ridge of his largeness inside her, stretching her.

Draco whispered a wandless lubrication spell, wetting one of his fingers. He ran it around the rim of Hermione’s arsehole and she began to plead “Please, baby, please. Do it.”

As he began to finger her tight rear hole, Hermione raised her full body back up on her knees, pushing back against him, moaning. Her plump tits swayed as Draco continued to fuck her from behind.

And right then … her bedroom door slammed open and one Ronald Weasley walked in.

“Are you okay, Mione? Oh bloody hell, my eyes!!!”

“What the fuck are you doing, Ron?” Hermione screamed at him, but to Draco’s shock, she didn’t stop moving. She kept pumping her pussy back on his cock, clenching her muscles tightly.

“I thought I heard a noise! I thought you were in trouble! I was going to rescue you! I don’t want to look but I’m so confused!” Ron peeled his eyes away from the floor and glanced up again to see Hermione panting and grinding herself on Draco bloody Malfoy!

“Is the Ferret bloody raping you or what?! You don’t seem too cross, Mione and – bollocks!! I don’t know what to do!”

“She’s getting good and properly shagged, Weasel, of course she’s not cross! She’s fucking loving it. Aren’t you, baby?”

“Shut up. You’re both gits. But oh, bloody hell, I’m so close. Draco – don’t stop. Keep doing what you were doing.”

“The finger in your arse and fucking you hard with my cock?”

“Draco, I can change my mind just as fast.” Hermione’s voice was hard as steel.

“Sorry, Mione.”

“I think I’m going to be sick. I may vomit.” Ron looked an especially awful shade of queasy.

“Ronald, I’m about to orgasm and I’d prefer you stop watching because you look like a bleeding pervert right now.” Hermione panted as Draco worked a second finger into her ass. Ron seemed to be equal parts trying to see and trying to avoid looking.

“Ronald – go into my living room and we will come out in a few minutes. I will explain and Draco will apologize to you for his appalling language and behavior. Won’t you, Draco?”

“Whatever you say, baby, your ass is so fucking tight.” Draco was panting hard – somehow even more turned on by the idea of Ron watching. He’d fantasized about Hermione so much at Hogwarts, especially when she seemed to be with Ron, or pining after him. It was the best sort of revenge.

“Please stop talking!” Ron groaned.

“Please get out before I hex your bollocks off!” Hermione yelled.

“Okay! Okay! Fine. Do I really have to stay?” Ron whined.

“Yes, we obviously need to – oh god, right there! Yes! – talk. We need to talk. Go!”

Ron practically ran to the living room, slamming the door shut behind him.

“Mione – “

“Don’t talk to me, Malfoy. You’re in deep shit. Just fuck me and try to remind me that you’re worth keeping around.” Hermione practically growled, she was so annoyed at his display of male testosterone.

“Yes, princess.”

Draco kept pumping two fingers into her arse as he slammed his sizable cock into her pussy from behind. He applied the lubrication spell one more time to her rear entrance and decided that at this point, he really had nothing left to lose. Might as well bet on her kinks and hope it paid off.

“You want me to fuck that tight arse, Princess?” Draco said loudly. He bent over her, leaning closely to her ear and whispered “I bet that gingered hair Weasley is listening in right now. You like to show off, baby, don’t you? You want him to hear me take that ass?”

Hermione groaned deeply and Draco literally felt her get wetter around his cock.

“You like that, Granger? You want me to fuck that asshole? Let me take it, baby.”

Hermione nodded and pulled herself forward, releasing him from her. Draco had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing. He couldn’t believe his luck, but if she heard him laugh, she’d sooner hex _his_ bollocks then continue to let him play.

Draco began to inch himself into her slowly, as Hermione rubbed her clit, crying out. “Oh god, you feel so big, baby.”

“It’s okay, love. We’ll go slow. You tell me when you’re ready for more, okay.”

“I want more, Draco. Give me more.”

He pushed deeper into her, rubbing his hands up and down her thighs as he did. She pushed back against him, panting as she grew closer to orgasm.

“I’m close, baby, don’t stop. Go harder. I can take it.”

Draco thrust forward the rest of the way until he was deep inside her. He began to thrust in earnest, getting louder, more uncontrollable as he got closer himself.

“Oh fuck, Granger, your ass is so fucking tight. You feel so good, baby. I can’t get enough of you. I fucking love you so much.”

“I love you, don’t stop. Feels so – oh Merlin’s beard – so good!”

He began to pound her hard, gripping her hair into a ponytail and pulling it taut. As he pressed forward into her, he pulled her hair back.

“Oh fuck, I’m coming, Draco! Bloody hell, your cock feels so good in my ass, baby. I want to feel you, baby. I want to feel you come in my ass.”

With that, Draco exploded.

A few minutes later, after some very thorough cleansing charms, a very embarrassed Hermione and a very proud Draco finally joined Ron in the living room. He wasn’t alone.

“Why is Potter here?” Draco snarled.

“I felt like I was about to charge in there and start hexing – I needed back up to stay out of there.” Ron grimaced.

“Understandable. Harry, did you hear – “ Hermione blushed furiously.

“I cast silencing charms as soon as I arrived. Not sure why you all hadn’t before, really, but no matter.” Harry chuckled, rolling his eyes at Hermione, Draco and Ron.

“Excellent. Tea, anyone?” Hermione asked.

All three men stopped and turned, starting at her with raised eyebrows.

“I’ll make four cups.” Hermione bustled through the kitchen, making tea, while Harry, Ron, and Draco sat in stunned silence. When the tea was finished, she calmly levitated a cup to each of them and came back, like a Queen holding Court.

“Now, who would like to begin?”

“Mione, that slimy git – “

“Who you calling slimy, you filthy Weasel!”

“Silencio.” Hermione calmly wandlessly silenced both Draco and Ron, stirring her tea. “Right then, I’ll start.” She took a deep breath and looked Ron fully in the eye.

“Draco and I are in a relationship. We have been, officially, for nearly a month. And unofficially – we’ve been _involved_ in a sense since the Gala at Malfoy Manor. You can ask me questions, if they are _tastefully and respectfully asked, Ronald¸_ and I will answer what I choose.”

With that, she released the silencing spell.

“Is – is it serious?” Ron asked, seemingly baffled.

“Yes.” Draco answered, reaching out and grabbing Hermione’s hand.

“I’m not asking you! I’m asking Mione!”

“Respectful, Ronald. To **everyone.** ” Hermione shot him a glare.

“Sorry, Mione. Is it serious?” Ron pleaded for an answer.

“Yes.”

“Is … this is so bloody awkward with him sitting there! Is he nice to you?” Ron asked quietly, blushing red.

“Yes, he’s nice to me. Honestly, the only issue we’re having at all is that he’d like to go public and I wasn’t quite ready.”

“Why not?”

“Well I wanted to tell all you lot first … preferably not the way today happened. I wanted to give you all time to get used to the idea before reporters from the Daily Prophet started showing up at the Burrow and Lord knows where else, pestering everyone with questions.”

“I see.”

“And I wanted to give you time to get to know Draco. On your own. Outside of school and old squabbles and revenge fantasies. Get to know each other for who you both are now.”

“I don’t know, Mione.” Ron shook his head, grimacing.

“I’m willing to do it, Weasley, if you are.”

“What?! Why?”

“Because I want to marry the best girl I’ve ever known and she doesn’t come on her own. She comes with a lot of gingered baggage. I don’t stand a chance in hell with Hermione if I don’t at least try to get along with the Weasleys.”

“Well I’m glad you aren’t too much of an idiot to know that at least.”

“Ronald. Careful.” Hermione scolded.

Ron sighed, running his fingers through his pumpkin hair. “You really want to marry Mione?” He asked Draco, looking into his eyes.

“Yes.”

“What was all that crap in there – the sexual stuff?”

“I love her and I want to marry her. I also want to shag the ever-living daylights out of her, but I don’t think you want to hear about that.”

“No! I don’t, but I mean – aren’t you a bit pervy with her?”

“Maybe your girl likes it a bit pervy. Did you ever ask her?”

At this Hermione just laughed and finally felt the need to interrupt. “This one is going too far. Let me just say this – there’s nothing Draco’s ever done to me that I haven’t asked for … or in some cases begged for. You have your sex life, Ron, let me have mine.”

“You want me to start talking about Ginny?” Harry offered.

“Oh god no!” Ron screeched.

“Case made.” Harry snickered. “What they do in the bedroom is no one’s business but theirs. And next time, maybe don’t just barge in on Mione’s bedroom. And Mione – put up some goddamn wards before you start a porno level bangfest and save us all the awkwardness. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Hermione, Ron, and Draco said in unison.

“So you’re really doing this?” Ron asked.

“Yes.” Hermione and Draco both said.

“Did you know, Harry?”

“Kind of.”

“What do you reckon?”

“I think the only thing that matters in any relationship is how it is for the two people in it. Mione – why do you want to be with Malfoy?”

“He challenges me. He’s so smart and I can talk to him on this intellectual level where I don’t feel like a freak. He likes me for who I really am, not who people think I should be. If I wanted to quit my job tomorrow and leave the Golden Trio Granger behind and move to some quiet island tomorrow, I think he’d just ask what to pack.”

“I’d just ask which island of mine you want to use.” Draco snickered. “They’re already filled with clothes for me.”

“And I like that when his ego flares up, I can put him in his place … or withhold sex until he learns his lesson.”

“Lesson learned. No seriously, though, lesson learned!”

“If he makes you happy, Mione, I’m happy for you. But he’s got to learn to be less of a bleeding prick.” Ron said begrudgingly.

“That statement swings both ways, Weasel.”

“Oh shut up and shake hands already, so Mione will make us some food. I’m bloody starving. Ron called me over here before I ate.” Harry griped.

Hermione laughed and cocked an eyebrow at her two stubborn boys. “What’ll it be? Food or fury?”

“I’m a Weasley. The answer is _always **food.** ”_ Ron shrugged, putting out a hand for Draco to shake.

“Yeah, alright then, Weasel. Just keep the hexes away from me, yeah?”

“Yeah, alright. Can we have fish and chips, Mione? Or that pot pie you did last month?”

“If you can stay civil for the time it takes me to make, you can have both. Come here, you idiots.” With that, she hugged her boys.  
 

 

 

   



End file.
